I, myself, deeply regret what happened between me and President Clinton. Let me say it again: I. Myself. Deeply. Regret. What. Happened.

I was worried about my mom more than I was worried about the president. And then I was worried about the president, and then I was worried about myself.

It’s time to burn the beret and bury the blue dress.

Overnight, I went from being a completely private figure to a publicly humiliated one. I was Patient Zero.

When you see anyone being targeted, support her or him with a positive comment or emoji.

She has slimmed down since the height of impeachment, her thick blow-dried hair as shiny as Russian sable and her creamy cleavage, as historic in its own way as Mount Rushmore, was quite wonderful to behold.

I lost my public self, or had it stolen. In a way, it was a form of identity theft.