Believe me, if I looked good, it's not an accident.

You can't retrieve you life (unless you're on Wikipedia, in which case you can retrieve an inaccurate version of it).

I know that I am essentially a sort of fun-loving person who really just wants to sit around and eat pies.

You can't call yourself a feminist if you don't believe in the right to abortion.

So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?

When you slip on a banana peel, people laugh at you. But when you tell people you slipped on a banana peel, it's your laugh.

If pregnancy were a book, they would cut the last two chapters. The beginning is glorious, especially if you're lucky enough not to have morning sickness and if, like me, you've had small breasts all your life. Suddenly they begin to grow, and you've got them, you've really got them, breasts, darling breasts, and when you walk down the street they bounce, truly they do, they bounce bounce bounce.