Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.
Whatever you choose, however many roads you travel, I hope that you choose not to be a lady. I hope you will find some way to break the rules and make a little trouble out there. And I also hope that you will choose to make some of that trouble on behalf of women.
When your children are teenagers, it’s important to have a dog so that someone in the house is happy to see you.
You’re born, you die. Everything in between is subject to interpretation.
Take notes. Everything is copy.
And don’t be frightened: you can always change your mind. I know: I’ve had four careers and three husbands.
Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.
When I buy a new book, I always read the last page first, that way in case I die before I finish, I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side.
You can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.
Insane people are always sure they’re just fine. It’s only the sane people who are willing to admit they’re crazy.
I have a theory that children remember two things-when you weren’t there and when they threw up.
And then the dreams break into a million tiny pieces. The dream dies. Which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.
You can’t meet someone until you become what you’re becoming.
Oh, how I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was twenty-six. If anyone young is reading this, go, right this minute, put on a bikini, and don’t take it off until you’re thirty-four.
When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
I don’t think any day is worth living without thinking about what you’re going to eat next at all times.
I have made a lot of mistakes falling in love, and regretted most of them, but never the potatoes that went with them.
That’s another thing about being a certain age that I’ve noticed: I try as much as possible not to look in the mirror.
I look out the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love, and the world’s greatest chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance.
In fact, looking back, it seems to me that I was clueless until I was about 50-years-old.
Here are some questions I am constantly noodling over: Do you splurge or do you hoard? Do you live every day as if it’s your last, or do you save your money on the chance you’ll live twenty more years? Is life too short, or is it going to be too long? Do you work as hard as you can, or do you slow down to smell the roses? And where do carbohydrates fit into all this? Are we really all going to spend our last years avoiding bread, especially now that bread in American is so unbelievable delicious? And what about chocolate?
So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around?
I think if you’re lucky enough to find a voice in whatever you do, that voice will come sneaking out no matter what.
And so, Thanksgiving. Its the most amazing holiday. Just think about it — it’s a miracle that once a year so many millions of Americans sit down to exactly the same meal as one another, exactly the same meal they grew up eating, and exactly the same meal they ate a year earlier. The turkey. The sweet potatoes. The stuffing. The pumpkin pie. Is there anything else we all can agree so vehemently about? I don’t think so.
I look as young as a person can look given how old I am.