London has the trick of making its past, its long indelible past, always a part of its present. And for that reason it will always have meaning for t… - Anna Quindlen

A loose end - that's what we woman call it, when we are overwhelmed by the care of small children, the weight of small tasks, a life in which we fall into bed at the end of the day exhausted from being all things to all people.

Some of my best friends are men. It is simply that I think women are superior to men. There, I've said it. It's my dirty little secret. [...]
The other day, a very wise friend of mine asked "Have you ever noticed that what passes as a terrific man would only be an adequate woman?" A Roman candle went off in my head; she was absolutely right. What I expect from my male friends is that there are polite and clean. What I expect from my female friends is unconditional love, the ability to finish my sentences for me when I am sobbing, and the ability to tell me why the meat thermometer isn't supposed to touch the bone.

the joy of someone who had been a reader all her life, whose world had been immeasurably enlarged by the words of others.