In loving life you love what can't survive.
I had been a feminist all my life, but the big problem was how to make your feminism jibe with you unappeasable hunger for male bodies.
Love is love, but marriage is an investment.
Anger is really disappointed hope.
We are so scared of being judged that we look for every excuse to procrastinate.
Isn't that the problem? That women have been swindled for centuries into substituting adornment for love, fashion (as it were) for passion?