My father worked on assembly lines in Detroit while I was growing up. Every day, I watched him do what he needed to do to support the family. But he told me, 'Life is short. Do what you want to do.'

I would make far more money if every song were my own, but I don't write to fill up the album with my songs.

Completeness? Happiness? These words don't come close to describing my emotions. There truly is nothing I can say to capture what motherhood means to me, particularly given my medical history.

I don't even have voice mail, and people get all out of shape about that. But, you know what, I don't want to transcribe your message; I want to talk to you. And that kind of freaks people out a bit. They go, 'Oh, who has time to talk?' and I'm like, 'Well, I'm gonna make time.

I'm in love, sweet love. Feel me calling out your name, I feel no shame.

I have as many pictures of my vocal cords as I do of my children. I have a great ear, nose and throat doctor, and we look at them - if there's some redness, maybe I'll take a little time off.

I need my career. That's what validates me.