I'm quite a cerebral person. Often I feel quite stuck in that.

My husband and I are two people who never thought we'd be married.

My love for my son just destroys me. I can barely even talk about it.

Each couple's version of intimacy is so fascinating to me. A friend will tell me about her marriage, and I'll think, 'Yikes, they have horrible communication! They're going to get divorced!' And then I'll hear about them at another time and think, 'Wow, they love each other so much!'

The grief of the keen is no personal complaint for the death of one woman over eighty years, but seems to contain the whole passionate rage that lurks somewhere in every native of the island.

Why fear death? It is the most beautiful adventure in life.

At home, I watch fights and documentaries - that's it. If it's not about the birth and death of stars, 'Frozen Planet,' or someone getting punched in the face, I'm probably not watching it.

Of course, I also hear from critics who detest what I do, and while sometimes I feel rather proud of having made various the loathsome people or groups angry, at other times I wonder why I put up with such grief.