When men reach their sixties and retire they go to pieces. Women go right on cooking.
I worked for MI6 in the Sixties during the great witch-hunts when the shared paranoia of the Cold War gripped the services.
Too many younger artists critics and curators are fetishizing the sixties transforming the period into a deformed cult a fantasy religion a hip brand and a crippling disease.
Since I was a kid I've had an absolute obsession with particular kinds of American music. Mississippi Delta blues of the Thirties Chicago blues of the Fifties West Coast music of the mid-Sixties - but I'd never really touched on dark Americana.
People today are still living off the table scraps of the sixties. They are still being passed around - the music and the ideas.
If someone thinks that love and peace is a cliche that must have been left behind in the Sixties that's his problem. Love and peace are eternal.
I knew I was a winner back in the late sixties. I knew I was destined for great things. People will say that kind of thinking is totally immodest. I agree. Modesty is not a word that applies to me in any way - I hope it never will.
To her audience Janis Joplin has remained a symbol artifact and reminder of late Sixties youth culture. Her popularity never derived from her musical ability but from her capacity to link her fantasies of freedom and immortality with ours.
The freedom that women were supposed to have found in the Sixties largely boiled down to easy contraception and abortion things to make life easier for men in fact.
In the sixties everyone you knew became famous. My flatmate was Terence Stamp. My barber was Vidal Sassoon. David Hockney did the menu in a restaurant I went to. I didn't know anyone unknown who didn't become famous.
I like to think of my behavior in the sixties as a 'learning experience.' Then again I like to think of anything stupid I've done as a 'learning experience.' It makes me feel less stupid.
I remember driving to North Carolina when I was a little girl in a snowstorm to get down to my mom's family in the Carolinas. There were chains on the car - it was the late sixties - and we were just singing in the car. Christmas carols.
Here in L.A. the standard of beauty is kind of ridiculous. I want to be doing this when I'm in my fifties and sixties and this isn't what I'm going to look like.
That attitude toward women as objects may have worked for the late Sixties but it doesn't do so now.
I love Mikhail Bulgakov. He is very original and takes the story to unexpected places. I didn't realise political writing could be so funny.