I was brought up among the sort of self-important women who had a husband as one has an alibi.

In real life, it is the hare who wins. Every time. Look around you. And in any case it is my contention that Aesop was writing for the tortoise market. Hares have no time to read. They are too busy winning the game.

The evening passes somehow; I watch television with Nancy, or I write. It is difficult, not having a family, and it is difficult to explain. I always go to bed early. And I am always ready for Monday morning, that time that other people dread.

What is interesting about self-analysis is that it leads nowhere - it is an art form in itself.

Time misspent in youth is sometimes all the freedom one ever has.

All good fortune is a gift of the gods, and you don't win the favor of the ancient gods by being good, but by being bold.

You can never betray the people who are dead, so you go on being a public Jew; the dead can't answer slurs, but I'm here. I would love to think that Jesus wants me for a sunbeam, but he doesn't.