We say something every morning when we decide how to dress.

We all want to be guilty, because guilt is power.

The fashion industry is no more able to preserve a style that men and women have decided to abandon than to introduce one they do not choose to accept.

There is a peculiar burning odor in the room, like explosives. the kitchen fills with smoke and the hot, sweet, ashy smell of scorched cookies. The war has begun.

Other wars end eventually in victory, defeat or exhaustion, but the war between men and women goes on forever.

There's a rule, I think. You get what you want in life, but not your second choice too.

Real literature, like travel, is always a surprise.