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My mother works. She always has. And while her career never took away from her capacity to love me and showed me the wonderful ways that a woman must contribute and benefit from her work, her work also taught me, though she never said it out loud, that being a woman in business sucks. Don’t try to tell me differently.

hunger means my insatiable need to be more, more perfect and more true, and my insatiable need to exist and feel alive and to hide and feel numb, and the crying child I feel somewhere deep inside, crying for warmth and never satisfied, never safe. If I could pick one word to define me that would be it: Hungry. If I could pick two it would be: Hungry, Always.

O livro é interessante, mas a autora divaga tanto, mas tanto, mas taaaanto que fica cansativo as vezes.

Beautifully written. Heartbreaking.