'Make your plate look like a Christmas tree,' I tell people, 'mostly green with splashes of other bright colors.'

Our culture has long mistrusted the body. It's been seen as a confusing blend of God's handiwork and the devil's playground. It is, rather, a vortex of intelligence.

There are some things that money can't buy: peace of mind, for starters, and lean muscle mass. Neither the Queen of England nor the founder of Microsoft can put in an order for either one.

My calling, as one imperfect human, is to celebrate and uphold life every time I get the chance.

I'm not perfect, but what's wonderful about eating a plant-based diet is, I don't have to be.

Every year when I put away my winter clothes and get out my summer clothes, they fit. And I haven't been on a diet since the Reagan administration.

I realize that I'm a mature woman and one of these days, incredible diet or not, I'll be a little old lady.

It simply feels right to me to blend the glittery delights of New York City with a largely raw vegan diet - with the soul-deep conviction that animals are not ours to eat, wear, exploit or experiment on.

As I see it, a green salad is an open invitation to carrots, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, and the sprouts that grow in jars on my kitchen counter.