The main cause of my difficulties stemmed from the tragedy of my daughter's unsound birth and my inability to face my feelings.

I never understood the theory, once popular among doctors, that blamed mental disorders on too little or too much mother love. My own mother was my darling.

There were days that I worked all the time, without a layoff, or a rest, finishing one picture and reporting for another sometimes on the same day.

I dated dozens of young men, had fun with all, made commitments to none.

that strange conflict in the American character: we pride ourselves on being the melting pot of the world but we insist on regarding most immigrants with suspicion.

I am not the kind of woman who excuses her mistakes while reminding us of what used to be.

I remember the 1940s as a time when we were united in a way known only to that generation. We belonged to a common cause-the war.