I run a tight ship, but I try and make it seem like I'm not doing that at all.

I think of images as an immune system and a transit system.

These are very confusing times. For the first time in history a woman is expected to combine: intelligence with a sharp hairdo, a raised consciousness with high heels, and an open, nonsexist relationship with a tan guy who has a great bod.

The only reason we find structure in stories is because it's there naturally in human interaction, and in the way that people tell stories.

At the center of everything we call 'the arts,' and children call 'play,' is something which seems somehow alive.

The groove is so mysterious. We're born with it and we lose it and the world seems to split apart before our eyes into stupid and cool. When we get it back, the world unifies around us, and both stupid and cool fall away. I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all.

I am not sure how much I would like being married if I wasn't married to him. A man who likes flea markets and isn't gay? I knew I was lucky.