Practically everything I did as an experiment while I was working on the book made me feel cold, angry, and decidedly peculiar. Clinical. Because I wasn't acting from the motives people usually work from: to feel good, to have fun,… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
I used to envy people who had written books, the way I think women envy other women who've had babies. I was resentful, shy, and inhibited around people who had written books. They'd done things I wanted to do. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
Paris is the only place where I feel that I lead a life that I can call my own. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
The thing about commuting internationally is that you have to be a lawyer or an airline steward to do it successfully. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
My worst image of myself is me sitting on a bed, smoking a cigarette, waiting for a phone call and thinking thoughts that don't… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
There is something very attractive about blonds, especially for brunettes. Its been said that blonds are loved and brunettes do the loving. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
Practically everything I did as an experiment while I was working on the book made me feel cold, angry, and decidedly peculiar. Clinical. Because… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
I get very weird and defensive about what I'm working on - I wouldn't even tell my secretary what the next page of my… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
I'd like to live in Paris, New York, and Los Angeles all at the same time. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
I love being in borrowed houses. I love being a bit out of my context. I miss my context dreadfully, but I'm excited by… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
The Germans have a wonderful combination of pathos, energy, and humor. They are like Californians with an education. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
I was a very polite schoolgirl who did her work very well and hid under tables. I'd hate to think I haven't changed at… — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
When you're writing, you're demented, alone, and full of doubt. It feels dangerous. — Joan Juliet Buck Copy Share Image
