The only way I can possibly heat my so-called mind up to working temperature is to imagine I'm talking to someone I admire.

You know, exams are like war -- the birth rate of ideas goes up. Anything to keep from this dismal regimen, says poor mind, and hopefully tosses up another distraction.

I've had too many experiences in my life of being the first woman in some damned occupation.

Anyone who shoots a real gun at you when drunk and angry is simply not husband material, regardless of his taste in literature.

Man is an animal whose dreams come true and kill him.

I dreamed horse and lived horse and expected, if necessary, to marry a horse; for all practical purposes I was a horse.

I am one of those that always get accidentally guillotined when the Great Day of Liberation comes, because ... I guess ... I am full of parentheses. Revolutions can't abide parentheses.