Whenever I told women - friends or acquaintances - that I had to go to divorce court, they'd invariably, without skipping a beat, ask, 'What are you going to wear?' It was like instant female solidarity: of course it mattered what I was going to wear.

Manspread, mansplaining, manterrupting - all of it, whether conscious or not, diminishes women's voices, minds, and bodies.

It's one thing to decry and defy political correctness in the name of efficiently achieving clarity or revealing an honest truth. But it's quite another thing entirely to support name-calling and nastiness.

I've spent my life being responsible, building a career, and waiting to find the right partner with whom to start a family.

In a mood of faith and hope my work goes on. A ream of fresh paper lies on my desk waiting for the next book. I am a writer and I take up my pen to write.

I see teenagers or people who are 21 and think, 'I was an idiot at that age.' I was running around New York like a crazy woman. Thank God I only had three and a half cents to my name. I was too immature to handle success then.

What we want with all our hearts will determine in large degree whether we can claim our right to the companionship of the Holy Ghost, without which there can be no spiritual nourishing.

The doctors told me I could never have kids, but God blessed me anyway.