It’s about the importance of all of us speaking freely, even if people wanna silence us. So that we can become the kind of women our younger selves would admire.
Sometimes I feel like a wind-up doll. Turn my key, and I’ll tell you exactly what you wanna hear.
I need to be able to say that I work at The New York Times, that I live in an elevator doorman building in Tribeca, and that my name is Ani Harrison because I married the lacrosse captain of Nantucket.[to Nell]
What’s the point of being at your fighting weight if you’re not gonna fight?
There’s a special place in hell for women who can’t show you just one picture of their children.
One day, I’ll have a corner office with my own insufferable display of prestigious and frankly phallic-looking awards. Until then, I pretend I’m important.
MFA programs are just for white girls who can’t get paid to write.
I’m not to the manor born, but I have something no trust fund can buy. The edge.
I intend to send a very clear message. This is an heirloom. We don’t just have money. We come from money. Take your best shot.
I don’t know if I’m fun. I don’t know what’s me and what part I invented to make people like me.[to Luke]
I am this close to becoming Ani Harrison, senior editor at The New York Times Magazine, to becoming someone people can respect.
I always thought the most vulnerable you’ll ever see a person is from behind. Like, you can autopsy every pore, every hair, like they’re defenseless.
