Nobody could tell me writing was a man’s job.

My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.

No man ever raised a monument to a cynic or wrote a poem about a man without faith.

I never actually said "Ooh, you dirty rat."

Nobody ever accused me of being objective.

As long as I was in Washington I never met anybody that I thought was good enough, who knew enough, or who loved enough to make sexual decisions for anybody else.

I’d never thought of myself as “one of the boys.

I've never let anyone talk me into not believing in myself.

I never heard of anyone who was really literate or who ever really loved books who wanted to suppress any of them.

I don't know a critic who penetrates the center of anything.

I did Lassie for six years and I never had anybody come up to me and say, "It made me want to be a farmer."

I've never observed wisdom to emerge from shouting.

I never learned from a man who agreed with me.

You know, I don't think I've ever listened to someone's commentary. Ever.