I've always been able to cook Italian food. That's in my blood because I'm half Sicilian.

I believe that I have such a vanilla life.

I still believe in the Holy Trinity, except now it's Target, Trader Joe's, and IKEA.

I'm the person who says every single thing she thinks, sometimes to others' amusement, and almost always to my detriment.

No matter how happy anyone is with their choices, I believe it's human nature to wonder about the path not taken.

As a reader, I notice political views regardless of whether or not the book is fiction. What annoys me is when said views do nothing to advance the narrative.

In real life, I tend to yell at people a lot. Not because I'm bossy or mean, but because I'm frustrated.

I don't mean to get all religious here, but I'm pretty sure key lime martinis (with a graham cracker & sugar rim) are proof that Jesus loves us.

Fortunately, all it takes for us to be of one mind is some buttercream frosting.

For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.

Ambien might have mentally just tossed my salad. WITH CROUTONS.

There's nothing you can do, Sirus. No one can do this for me, and no one can swoop in and rescue me every time I'm challenged. I have to do this on my own.

I'm independent as a hog on ice and a hog on ice is dead, cold, well-preserved and don't need a mother'grabbin, thing.

People ought to fight to keep their law as to defend the city s walls.

Economics and politics are the governing powers of life today, and that's why everything is so screwy.

Those flowers were picked by illegal immigrants. And they're not voting for you, b*tch.

You're a musician: You play. That's what you do.

Love is the only passion which includes in its dreams the happiness of someone else.

Sit down and read. Educate yourself for the coming conflicts.

Only America makes you feel that everybody wants to be like you. That's what success is: Everybody wants to be like you.

There is far too much talk of love and grief benumbing the faculties, turning the hair gray, and destroying a man's interest in his work. Grief has made many a man look younger.