I really consider myself a writer, and a writer who is sometimes a social critic. I'm not an ideologue, I don't join a party. I follow along and take notes. Sometimes I throw in my two cents.

A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears.

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.

Some people who think they are in unhappy marriages are just in unhappy bodies.

A person who has no secrets is a liar. We always fold ourselves away from others just enough to preserve a secret or two, something that we cannot share without destroying our inner landscape.

People always tell me either A. you love him. B. you hate him. My usual answer? C. All of the above.

I am not a perfect friend, and it is impossible not to rebuff or be rebuffed if you move about the world.

I've told the same story twelve different ways, but I think that's just part of what writers do. Once may not be enough.

What other people think of me is not really my major concern in life. What other people think of what I write is another matter.

I have two writer daughters, and a psychoanalyst daughter, and a lawyer daughter, and they wish we didn't write, I'm sure, but we write. If we were a painting family, we would paint.

You really can't say things that upset someone in print and expect them to be nice and leave you their money. That's just not reasonable.

When we pay attention to sensations in our bodies, we can feel that love is the energetic opposite of fear.

A small idea with wings will take you higher than a big one with legs.

Create a world within the world and be happy inside it! Don’t forget, you are not condemned to live the world as is!

Foolishness is more than being stupid, that deadly combination of arrogance and ignorance.

How do you feel?”He rubbed his stomach. “Like I’ve been eating Styrofoam.

I have used that song ["50ft Queenie"] and I'm a big PJ Harvey fan. I think she's fantastic.

Oh! the joy Of young ideas painted on the mind, In the warm glowing colors fancy spreads On objects not yet known, when all is new, And all is lovely.

I can't predict what songs will do to the collective consciousness.

Well, there's no monkey on my back.

I never worked with a stinker. How great is that!