I like to say that my mother had a very ordinary life. From the outside it didn't look like there was anything… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
And yet we constantly reclaim some part of that primal spontaneity through the youngest among us, not only through their sorrow and… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
Writing for UrbanMoms has awarded me a multitude of amazing opportunities. I have traveled to new places; alone and with my family.… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
I read and walked for miles at night along the beach, writing bad blank verse and searching endlessly for someone wonderful who… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
I think books in which people are really happy and things are going well are probably the most challenging novels there are to write,… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
Trying to be perfect may be inevitable for people who are smart and ambitious and interested in the world and its good opinion...What is… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
Sometimes change came all at once, with a sound like a fire taking hold of dry wood and paper, with a roar that rose… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
knowledge of our own mortality is the greatest gift God ever gives us. — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
You teach your 16-year-old with your heart in your mouth to be a good driver and none of that makes any difference when some… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
Every reader, I suspect, has a book like this somewhere in his or her past, a book that seemed to hold within it, at… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
“I’ve finally recognized my body for what it is: a personality-delivery system, designed expressly to carry my character from place to place, now and… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
“In England I am always madam; I arrived too late to ever be a miss. In New York I have only been madamed once,… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
“Yet there was always in me, even when I was very small, the sense that I ought to be somewhere else. And wander I… — Anna Quindlen Copy Share Image
