I think our material is our lives. That's part of being a modern writer, and we have to use it.

You have to have a certain kind of thickening of the hide. I mean, I'm not particularly worried about what other people think. If other people think that I was not the world's most perfect mother, they are completely right.

We flashed our feathers when the feathers were fit to be flashed, and now, in drearier days, many stay indoors.

Reader, you forget that economics precedes religion; worship grew out of eating, not the other way around.

They want to play at being mothers. So let them. Expressing tenderness in their own way will not prevent girls from enjoying a successful career in the future; indeed, the ability to nurture is as valuable a skill in the workplace as the ability to lead.

Everybody is bound by some social rules. But I think that artists need some kind of freedom to explore their minds and that some of them tend to take that freedom to live a little more openly or a little more dangerously, sometimes a lot more self-destructively, than other people.

People always tell me either A. you love him. B. you hate him. My usual answer? C. All of the above.