To be a rebel is not to be a revolutionary. It is more often by a way of spinning one's wheels deeper in sand.

I'm slammed with an identity that can no longer say a word; mute with responsibility.

Men and women were declared equal one morning and everybody could divorce each other by postcard

Mother had committed me for life. This is where I felt betrayed the most.

You may well ask how I expect to assert my privacy by resorting to the outrageous publicity of being one's actual self on paper. There's a possibility of it working if one chooses the terms, to wit: outshouting image-gimmick America through a quietly desperate search for self.

People have a right to their own lives, and if you can't help somebody, you ought to get out of their way.

I was supposed to be women's lib, and now I'd exceeded it and gone over into international politics.