Every man has something to do which he neglects, every man has faults to conquer which he delays to combat.
Is Valentine's Day a day to make cupcakes with your children? No, Valentine's is supposed to be a day about romantic love.
The stereotypical gay man is someone whose company I enjoy, someone who makes me laugh, someone I'd want my kid to be. The stereotypical gay woman makes me insecure, conscious of my failings as a feminist.
Well, you know, I was raised by a 1970s feminist. My mom had a consciousness-raising group. I used to sit at the top of the stairs and listen to them.
When the babies were very young, I found it difficult to write. I told myself each time that it would be different, I was used to it now, but with every child, for the first four months, I would accomplish nothing.
Being a public defender makes you incredibly paranoid - and I would say with reason - about law enforcement.
I tell myself that after four children my belly is already so stretched and flabby that I have to do origami to get my pants buttoned. One more pregnancy and I'd be doomed to elastic waists for the rest of my life.
Starving for a high, a place to hang out inside my own head. Starving for touch. Pain, even. A way to feel. I need to feel.
When I come into a game in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, no one out and a one-run lead. . . it takes people off my mind.
We can remove poverty from the surface of the earth only if we can redesign our institutions - like the banking institutions, and other institutions; if we redesign our policies, if we look back on our concepts, so that we have a different idea of poor people.
I am flying back to New York as I write this. I will never forget these wonderful 35 days and I would go back to Copenhagen in a heartbeat to work there again.