I have a hat. It is graceful and feminine and give me a certain dignity, as if I were attending a state funeral or something. Someday I may get up enough courage to wear it, instead of carrying it.

For some unexplained reason, it's always the other end of the table that's wild and raucous, with screaming laughter and a fella who plays 'Holiday for Strings' on water glasses.

Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the 'Titanic' who waved off the dessert cart.

When humor goes, there goes civilization.

With all the precautions and risks that accompany sex today, it sounds about as much fun as walking through a minefield.

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 was too old for a paper route, too young for Social Security and too tired for an affair.