And so, Thanksgiving. Its the most amazing holiday. Just think about it — it's a miracle that once a year so many millions of Americans sit down to exactly the same meal as one another, exactly the same meal they grew up eating, and exactly the same meal they ate a year earlier. The turkey. The sweet potatoes. The stuffing. The pumpkin pie. Is there anything else we all can agree so vehemently about? I don't think so.

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The hardest thing about writing is writing.

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And don't be frightened: you can always change your mind. I know: I've had four careers and three husbands.

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The Wonderbra is not a step forward for women. Nothing that hurts that much is a step forward for women.

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Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.

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You can't meet someone until you become what you're becoming.

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Here are some questions I am constantly noodling over: Do you splurge or do you hoard? Do you live every day as if it's your last, or do you save your money on the chance you'll live twenty more years? Is life too short, or is it going to be too long? Do you work as hard as you can, or do you slow down to smell the roses? And where do carbohydrates fit into all this? Are we really all going to spend our last years avoiding bread, especially now that bread in American is so unbelievable delicious? And what about chocolate?

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I think if you're lucky enough to find a voice in whatever you do, that voice will come sneaking out no matter what.

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You're born, you die. Everything in between is subject to interpretation.

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When I buy a new book, I always read the last page first, that way in case I die before I finish, I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side.

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