Aim high. You may still miss the target, but at least you won't shoot your foot off.

Your father calls you to his court. You need not pack. You go garbed in glorious raiment. He waits eagerly by his palace doors to welcome you, and has prepared a place at the high table, by his side, in the company of the great-souled, honored, and best-beloved.

Growing up, I have discovered over time, is rather like housework: never finished.

I think 99 percent of women's lib comes from technology making different kinds of lives possible, and then the social adjustment follows the technology - it doesn't precede it.

Endure pain, find joy, and make your own meaning, because the universe certainly isn't going to supply it.

Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are.

One learns better than to hand one's choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns.