My father was a joyous, joyous spirit, he really was. He was a hedonist, that was just - he enjoyed life, thrust up to the elbows with it. He was a terrible father. I don't know that he was parented that well.

Sometimes I think all I want to find is a mean guy and make him be nice to me. Or maybe a nice guy who's a little bit mean to me. But they're usually too nice too soon or too mean too long.

If you're manic-depressive and you're functioning in this world and doing it all well, I think, wow, you should be proud of being able to say, this is what I'm getting through right now.

I grew up knowing that I had the prettiest mother of anyone in my class.

People see me and they squeal like tropical birds or seals stranded on the beach.

So when I was 24, someone suggested to me that I was bipolar, and I thought that was ridiculous. I just thought he was trying to get out of treating me. But he was also responding to the chaotic nature of my life.

Me being an actor was an accident, and not something I wanted to do, because I knew what happened eventually. Yeah, maybe you'd get famous, but then you wouldn't be famous anymore. Then you'd have to scramble to get back to where you were, and chances are, you wouldn't.