My life has been an open book, for better or for worse.
I rowed for Cambridge. I was pretty good at that.
They, all of them, work incredibly hard to make me seem clever and heroic, neither of which I am.
I just read an 800-page history of the Scottish Enlightenment and, honestly, I may as well just start it again now, because I cannot remember a single thing. I can barely remember where Scotland is.
I run six-to-eight miles a day, plus weights and aerobics in the lunch hour. I also lie a lot, which keeps me thin.
It's a holy city for music.
Newton's Third Law of Conversation, if it existed, would hold that every statement implies an equal and opposite statement. To say that I'd turned the offer down raised the possibility that I might not have done.
I learned working with the negatives could make for better pictures
I used to joke that if acting didn't work out, poetry was my commonsense fallback.
Yet, for my part, I was never unusually squeamish; I could sometimes eat a fried rat with a good relish, if it were necessary.
I've learned to rely on the strength I inherited from all those who came before me-the grandmothers, sisters, aunts, and brothers who were tested with unimaginable hardships and still survived. 'I go forth alone, and stand as ten thousand,' Maya Angelou proclaimed in her poem 'Our Grandmothers. ' When I move through the world, I bring all my history with me-all the people who paved the way for me are part of who I am.