Dace ჯ’s Reviews > Four Seasons in Rome > Status Update

Look closely and the picturesque inevitably cracks apart and becomes more interesting.

The love for your kids, I'm learning, is a kind of love that has no conclusion, a feeling that multiplies back on itself. It's unquantifiable and almost certainly inexhaustible: No matter how many children you had, no matter what your children did, could you ever run out of that love?

If there is a God, His devotion to us is like that, like the way we feel about our children.

A writer manufactures a dream.

I agree to live now, live as sweetly as I can, to fill my clothes with wind and my eyes with lights, but I understand I'll have to leave in the end.

To live is to make leavings. Hair, dust, trash, children, love letters, old shoes, bones.

That's the miracle of writing, the place you try to find - when the room, your body, and even time itself cooperate in a vanishing act.

This, I suppose, is what it means to look after two babies: any attempt to make you feel as if you were at the center of something is hopelessly hilarious.

You find your way through a place by getting lost in it.

Maybe being a new parent is like moving to a foreign country.

There is a circle of understanding, an unspoken fellowship, between parents of multiple babies.