What a different world it was when I first sailed for Europe in 1930, with my mother, sister, and brother to spend six months abroad.

I do not recall spending long hours in front of a mirror loving my reflection.

I used to annoy my father by telling him how much I felt luck was with me.

The things we ignore often come back to us in our sleep.

I was fortunate enough to work under directors who were, most of them, brilliant, emotional men.

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.

I approached everything, my job, my family, my romances, with intensity.