Women, as well as men, in all ages and in all places, have danced on the earth, danced the life dance, danced joy, danced grief, danced despair, and danced hope. Literally and metaphorically, by their very lives.

Holidays are enticing only for the first week or so. After that, it is no longer such a novelty to rise late and have little to do.

The dead don't bear a grudge nor seek a blessing. The dead don't rest uneasy. Only the living.

As we grow older we should become not less radical but more so.

In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was sorry.

I used to think there would be a blinding flash of light someday, and then I would be wise and calm and would know how to cope with everything and my kids would rise up and call me blessed. Now I see that whatever I'm like, I'm pretty well stuck with it for life. Hell of a revelation that turned out to be.

Privacy is a privilege not granted to the aged or the young.