I recognise my old self in a lot of the letters I get from single women who are unrealistic about what they want.

Joy acts like a trampoline, everything that touches it bouncing right back off it.

Life is rife with frustrations, jealousies and, on occasion, an overwhelming sense of its injustices, but it's a big mistake to let such negative sentiments rule our lives and dictate choices.

Every friendship goes through ups and downs. Dysfunctional patterns set in, external situations cause internal friction, you grow apart and then bounce back together.

In romance we feel the need to zoom in and expound on our partner's foibles in intimate detail; in friendship we tend to do the opposite, avoiding confrontation through fear, lethargy or both.

I was told that when you hit forty men stop looking at you. It's true, until you slip on a mini-skirt.

I wasn't allowed to be clever when I was young and blonde, but now I am 50 and an old blonde, I am allowed to have gravitas. With wrinkles comes wisdom.

Like cars, every relationship requires a bit of an occasional service, and fine-tuning should be compulsory.

For most of us, when our 'dreams' - I use the word with reservations - came true, and marriage and motherhood became a reality, the romcoms, like horoscopes, swiftly lost their allure.

Since so many romantic comedies vary little in their storyline, the success or failure of such movies depends largely on whether we believe in the relationship of the protagonists.

Having a baby is a disaster for your career. I don't think there's any sympathy.

Do more listening than talking

Historical determinism is a recipe for political quietism.

Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom.

Don't let a culture or society's rules define who you are; you define who you are.

Oh my love, it's you that I dream of Oh my love, since that day Somewhere in my heart I'm always Dancing with you in the summer rain

One of the main reasons that it is so easy to march men off to war is that each of them feels sorry for the man next to him who will die.

Stained glass, engraved glass, frosted glass; give me plain glass.

As when, O lady mine, With chiselled touch, The stone unhewn and cold, Becomes a living mould, The more the marble wastes, The more the statue grows.

You're always in the kitchen," Alianora said when she poked her head through the door a moment later. "Or the library. Don't you ever do anything but cook and read?

Don't ask me how I am,' I blurt. 'Please.' I want to keep feeling good. Just because the lights are on doesn't mean I have to look.