I am a woman, hear me roar," I said. Gosh, what prompted that?" Amelia asked, and I jumped

You need to wear this." Amelia holds up a chunky silver necklace studded with gemstones. I can't help scrunching up my face. It's one fugly piece of bling.

I had to be the only person on the planet capable of pissing off every guy in my life on the same day while managing to get them to all lie to each other - while lying to them my self.

Just because it's not hard science, just because it doesn't lead to a high-paying job at a hedge fund after college, doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing.

Teachers assign it, and parents are happy because their kids are reading something of 'quality.' But it's forcing kids to read books like that that make them think they hate reading.

You have all you need. A home, children, work that satisfies you. What do you need with a man?

Walking around the ragged exterior of Ramsay House, Amelia talked animatedly with John Dashiell, asking about his past projects, his ambitions, and whether there were difficulties in working with one’s brother. “We knock heads quite often, I’m afraid,” Dashiell replied, squinting against the afternoon sun. A quick grin illuminated his face. “We both hate to compromise. I accuse him of being set in his ways, and he accuses me of arrogance. The pity of it is, we’re both right.

We southerners worship our ancestors.

I don't think she realized how much she cared for him, or he for her, until the end. Hasn't someone said a woman may be known by the men who love her enough to die for her? (If they haven't, I claim the credit myself.)

I, too, have felt that the war goes on and on. When my son, Ian, died at El Alamein-- side by side with... visitors offering their condolences, thinking to comfort me, said, "Life goes on." What nonsense, I thought, of course it doesn't. It's death that goes on; Ian is dead now and will be dead tomorrow and nexe year and forever. There's no end to that. But perhaps there will be an end to the sorrow of it.