Someone once threw me a small, brown, hairy kiwi fruit, and I threw a wastebasket over it until it was dead.

I never go to a college reunion that I don't come away feeling sorry for all those paunchy, balding jocks trying to hang onto youth. I feel sorry for the men, too.

It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of super sophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.

If I had my life to live over I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what.

Remember, you can lead a fifty-seven-year-old body to motherhood, but you can't make it stay awake.

I have always felt that too much time was given before the birth, which is spent learning things like how to breathe in and out with your husband (I had my baby when they gave you a shot in the hip and you didn't wake up until the kid was ready to start school), and not enough time given to how to mother after the baby is born.