I am different when my nails are done. I am more dynamic. I gesticulate more, I am better at scaring my staff. I can indicate impatience by drumming on tabletops and I can wrap up a meeting with a few choice clatters.

No more humiliation for me, thanks very much. No more swallowing my anger. Honestly, I couldn't manage another mouthful. But it was delicious. Did you make it yourself?

The best anyone can do is breathe in, breathe out and wait for it to pass.

He seemed wild and dangerous and carefree--well, he would, would'nt he? What were motorcycles and black leather pants if not the uniform of a wild, dangerous and carefree man?

Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted make-up.

Here's how it is: I feel guilty about every single bite of food that goes into my mouth.

I went grey at 12, my eyesight went at 17. I've been a crock from very early on.