It was the time of year that makes every poet’s heart sing and every lawyer question their life choices.

The smallest a family can be is two members, and that was Jules and me.

That kind of monotony that running generates - the one soundtracked by heavy breathing and the steady rhythm of feet on pavements - became a kind of metaphor for depression.

A place, where i can do anything.... is called dream.

But there is one cool thingabout having a weirdo mother.She works so hard at rememberingwhere she left herselfshe doesn’t have timeto work on me.

There is a very thin line between- Gobar(cow dung) and Go-Uber!!!!

His being there was stirring up a lot of memories she'd have been happier to leave as sentimental sediment. Not that they weren't good memories. That was the trouble.

Give up the tyranny of female charm.

I'm just an Irish biddy.

Advertisers in general bear a large part of the responsibility for the deep feelings of inadequacy that drive women to psychiatrists, pills, or the bottle.

There weren’t any fairy tales in the streets around me. If there was ever a Cinderella, her glass slippers shattered under her weight and she limped home bleeding from the ball.