I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital.

My extroversion is a way of managing my introversion.

I have a mess in my head sometimes, and there's something very satisfying about putting it into words. Certainly it's not something that you're in charge of, necessarily, but writing about it, putting it into your words, can be a very powerful experience.

A story a friend told me about being in New York and meeting this Latin-lover kind of guy. They went up to her hotel room, and the guy kind of pounced on her and told her to spread her legs, shouting, "Surrender the pink! Surrender the pink!" That's where it's from.

One of the great things to pretend is that you're not only alright, you're in great shape. Now to have that come true - I've actually gone on stage depressed and that's worked its magic on me, 'cause if I can convince you that I'm alright, then maybe I can convince me.

As a matter of fact [my mother] is very happily married. To a very nice southern gentleman named Roanoke - her first non-Jewish husband, as she likes to say.

The older you get, the easier it is to spot the phonies. And I just think, how unpleasant for them.