I'm Not A Nice Person.

When Someone Works For Less Pay Than She Can Live On - When, For Example, She Goes Hungry So That You Can Eat More Cheaply And Conveniently - Then She Has Made A Great Sacrifice For You, She Has Made You A Gift Of Some Part Of Her Abilities, Her Health, And Her Life.

Personally, I Can't See Why It Would Be Any Less Romantic To Find A Husband In A Nice Four-color Catalogue Than In The Average Downtown Bar At Happy Hour.

If Men Were Equally At Risk From This Condition - If They Knew Their Bellies Might Swell As If They Were Suffering From End-stage Cirrhosis, That They Would Have To Go Nearly A Year Without A Stiff Drink, A Cigarette, Or Even An Aspirin, That They Would Be Subject To Fainting Spells And Unable To Fight Their Way Onto Commuter Trains - Then I Am Sure That Pregnancy Would Be Classified As A Sexually Transmitted Disease And Abortions Would Be No More Controversial Than Emergency Appendectomies.

A Lot Of What We Experience As Strength Comes From Knowing What To Do With Weakness. Nickel And Dimed On (not) Getting By In America

I Was Raised The Old-fashioned Way, With A Stern Set Of Moral Principles: Never Lie, Cheat, Steal Or Knowingly Spread A Venereal Disease. Never Speed Up To Hit A Pedestrian Or, Or Course, Stop To Kick A Pedestrian Who Has Already Been Hit. From Which It Followed, Of Course, That One Would Never Ever -- On Pain Of Deletion From Dozens Of Christmas Card Lists Across The Country -- Vote Republican.