Pregnancy seemed like a tremendous abdication of control. Something growing inside you which would eventually usurp your life.

I know some good marriages-marriages where both people are just trying to get through their days by helping each other, being good to each other.

I don't think that sex necessarily produces intimacy.

Isn't that the problem? That women have been swindled for centuries into substituting adornment for love, fashion (as it were) for passion?

It is the nature of those books we call classics to wait patiently on the shelf for us to grow into them.

beware the Lure of a handsome Face, the all too ready Assumption that the lovely Façade must needs have lovely Chambers within; for as 'tis with Great Houses, so, too, with Great Men.

Isn't it our job to be appalled by our parents? Isn't it every generation's duty to be dismayed by the previous generation? And to assert that we are different - only to discover later that we are distressingly the same?