All warfare is based on deception.
That’s one of the worst things about getting old. That people allow themselves to die before you.
An amazing breathlessness arises because we fill our lives with emptiness and Facebook. In a discussion about the empty calories of Facebook, someone close to me said with great seriousness: “I have 190 friends on Facebook.” Then I replied: “Yes, but hardly one of them will pick up your coffin the day you leave here.” Why not use the time for some fewer and real friends in the real world.
My family is so poor that we combined my father’s funeral with my 50th birthday.
I am completely overwhelmed. It’s a good thing you don’t turn 100 every day. Even though I don’t have that much energy anymore, I still want to take a few more years.
I need ammunition, not a ride.
The women’s struggle today is an individual struggle (…) You can’t demand equal pay if you also want to have a long maternity leave, stay at home when they are sick and be there primarily for the children.
And what happens when you go away? When life’s shirt gets too short? Where is the common thread? You have to become something!
One of the things I can’t get my hands on is something like “Mothers’ Clubs”, where instead of reading a book and walking in nature with their babies, they sit and talk about vomit and nappies and burping with other like-minded people and get nowhere. I think it bothers me a little in the women’s area.
We know the reward is peace on earth, goodwill toward men, but we cannot win it without determination and concerted effort.
Well but, everything has an end, and an earthworm it has two.
When peace comes, remember it will be for us, the children of today, to make the world of tomorrow a better and happier place.
I’ve never given myself a lot of credit because of my relationship with Ike. I was just happy when I started to like myself – when I got divorced and took control of my life.
I want a globe as a birthday present – in life size.
I was mortified that she disappeared before me, sitting at her writing desk, surrounded by classical music. A cerut in hand and a glass of whisky within reach.