You get towards the end of life—no, not life itself, but of something else: the end of any likelihood of change in that life.
The writer’s life is a life of solitude.
I'm tough, I'm ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay.
The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others.