There is no greater sin than to be trop prononce.
My life has been amazing. How many other ladies of 76 can say that the snapshot on their senior citizen's card was taken by Norman Parkinson?
We are oceans apart. My mother had a very difficult life.
I'm doing the best I can with the ravages of time on my body and I'm a work in progress. I can't write a memoir because I can't do it this week or next week. . . I try to be an inspiration to the young to respect their older people; we can't stay the same, but we do the best we can with what's left. You can't whine about stuff, you have to learn to eat humble pie along the way and keep going, because the alternative is going to happen.
I'm totally formed by my mother's interest in fashion. As a Hungarian immigrant, she couldn't afford clothes. She made all her clothes from patterns. It was not dépassé to make your own clothes, it was a respected skill and it was financially expedient. I learned that doing it yourself, having self-discipline and working went hand in hand. To work passionately at something is the key. I'm fortunate and blessed to have had, for the most part in my life, the privilege to work at something I'm passionate about.
I have had more magazine covers in the last 25 years than I have had in my whole elongated career. Today I am in a territory that business considers unmarketable: age and white hair. Slowly, however, I started to own that territory little by little because I stood up for age.
My philosophy is the balance of remembering the past but not living in it, to know where you are in the moment, to project a little in the future and be ready to change. It's how you experience the grace to enjoy the smell of the pavement after a rain - the little things in life to make you satisfied. I never settle for anything that doesn't give me a modicum of pleasure if not total joy and satisfaction. It's allowed, that's what we're supposed to feel. How can we, from an empty cup, offer a stranger a drink of water? You have to fill that cup to the brim!
I am sure the grapes are sour.
Theology is Anthropology. . . [T]he distinction which is made, or rather supposed to be made, between the theological and anthropological predicates resolves itself into an absurdity.
Discontented women are like pressure cookers. The steam rises and one day they just reach boiling point.
He can afford to be a fool.