I'm a coward, I didn't want to die.

I mean, they call it Stockholm Syndrome and post traumatic stress disorder. And, you know, I had no free will. I had virtually no free will until I was separated from them for about two weeks.

My daughters have grown up knowing all about my kidnapping and the case and what happened.

Is it reasonable to assume that someone who has been locked in a closet for 57 days after being kidnapped and brutalized, raped, abused, then they say you're going to rob a bank?

Well, you know, it's really been, you know, quite a trip for me.

For me, my awakening came when I was kidnapped.

There is - you know, there's receipts for rented cars and license plates and guns and hand prints and palm prints and fingerprints. You know, I want to wait until I'm in a court.

I finally figured out what my crime was. I lived. Big mistake.

I got hit in the face with a gun. I'm not very fragile at all. It makes me think maybe things would be easier if I were terribly frail and fragile somehow.

Well, you know, they were - they were a terrorist group. They - when I was kidnapped they published all of their statements about their war that they declared on the United States.

Even to me, as I was trying to tell the government what had happened, it just didn't seem to matter.

Charlestoning is hard. People were fit in the '20s to be able to do that. I guess they didn't sit in front of their computers all day.

Politics are not the task of a Christian.

Personally, I do not believe that it is the duty of any man or woman to write a novel. In nine cases out of ten, there would be greater merit in leaving it unwritten.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!

Being in the world of fashion you have to be very self-absorbed, and you are surrounded by people who are very self-absorbed.

The stars shine as they always do. Same stars. Same sky. Only I am different.

I am against lying, but just because someone asks a question does not mean you have to answer it.

Everyone has a moment in history which belongs particularly to him.

I like to know for whom I'm writing - it makes the composition easier to do.

The oak roars when a high wind wrestles with it; the beech shrieks; the elm sends forth a long, deep groan; the ash pours out moans of thrilling anguish.