I consider myself a realist who wants to stand up for women's voices, not when they try to be the same, but when they stand up for who we are and what we see and how important it is that our voice is heard.

We need feminist voices today, you know. In my time, we had incredible feminist voices and I'm sure we have it today, too, but in all the massive outlets, maybe the one or two or three voices are somehow disappearing.

I looked into the mirror and saw this middle-aged woman who keeps invading my face.

What I have always loved most in men is imperfection. I get moved by the wrinkles on the throat of a man. It makes me love him more. I think it is sad that more women don't take the chance that maybe men will be moved by seeing the chin a little less firm than it used to be, that a man will be more in love with his wife because he remembers who she was and sees who she is and thinks, God, isn't that lovely that this happened to her. And be moved by life telling its story there.

Since suffering confers no rights on its victims, we who witness are the ones responsible for restoring these lost rights.

The Summer Book is beautiful and warm, with the kind of wisdom we can adapt to our everyday lives.

We are different. We are equal in every way but our voices are important to each other and our need to want to listen to each other and try to understand, because sometimes we are so difficult to understand. Men to understand us, and we to understand men. And we don't. We don't connect the way we should.