If you fell head first into a pigsty, you'd try to convince everybody you did it on purpose.
I'm proud of myself. I'm a relieved, happy girl.
I wasn't a perfect thing at 17. I didn't have confidence. I was hunched over and real embarrassed, and I didn't want to be in the limelight. But it changed over time.
With my child, I hardly watch TV now.
While I still have more good days than bad days, I'm going to keep playing.
While I was always successful. . . I never thought I'd be one in the world.
You always see people coming back to the sport, and I've always thought, 'Gosh, when you're done playing, wouldn't you just want to stay at home?
When I conducted a beer-rating session last year, I wrote that most American beers taste as if they were brewed through a horse. That offended many people in the American beer industry, as well as patriots who thought I was being subversive in praising foreign beers. I have just read a little-known study of American beers. So I must apologize to the horse. At least with a horse, we'd know what we're getting.
As nearly as possible in the spirit of Matthew Salinger, age one, urging a luncheon companion to accept a cool lima bean, I urge my editor, mentor and (heaven help him) closest friend, William Shawn, genius domus of The New Yorker, lover of the long shot, protector of the unprolific, defender of the hopelessly flamboyant, most unreasonably modest of born great artist-editors to accept this pretty skimpy-looking book.
So she [Eleanor Roosevelt] is an amazing First Lady. What other First Lady in U. S. history has ever written a book to criticize her husband's policies?
Mankind are in the end always governed by superiority of intellectual faculties, and none are more sensible of this than the military profession. When, on my return from Italy, I assumed the dress of the Institute, and associated with men of science, I knew what I was doing: I was sure of not being misunderstood by the lowest drummer boy in the army.