If I don't tell it all now, the story in the history books will always be imperfect and that would be wrong.

I like to think that people live on in other people's memories.

As a little girl I used to daydream about my real father coming on a white horse to rescue me.

Bill Astor knew these papers were missing. Stephen showed his hand in October.

They wanted to hear about the sex, of course. But not the rest; no one wanted to hear the rest.

If I don't tell it all now, the story in the history books will always be imperfect and that would be wrong.

Men, all men, were always trying to get hold of me, you know.