In the South Pacific, because of their size, mosquitoes are required to file flight plans.

There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.

I have finally mastered what to do with the second tennis ball. Having small hands, I was becoming terribly self-conscious about keeping it in a can in the car while I served the first one. I noted some women tucked the second ball just inside the elastic leg of their tennis panties. I tried, but found the space already occupied by a leg. Now, I simply drop the second ball down my cleavage, giving me a chest that often stuns my opponent throughout an entire set.

. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute - look at it and really see it - live it - and never give it back.

I take a very practical view of raising children. I put a sign in each of their rooms: 'Checkout Time is 18 years.'

I will never understand children. I never pretended to. I meet mothers all the time who make resolutions to themselves. 'I'm going to ... go out of my way to show them I am interested in them and what they do. I am going to understand my children.' These women end up making rag rugs, using blunt scissors.

I used everything you gave me.