I was born imagining myself with an apron on, with pies cooling on the window sill and babies crying upstairs. I thought that all that stuff would somehow anchor me to the planet, that it was the weight I needed to keep from just flying off into space.

My extroversion is a way of managing my introversion.

I'd like to wear my old [cinnamon buns] hairstyle again - but with white hair. I think that would be funny.

Now I say I'm a diarist with an explanation I'll get back to you on. Someday I may try and write in memoir form.

As you get older, the pickings get slimmer, but the people don't.

Eventually, life of the party is just like any other job. I've thought of myself that way at times, but it's sort of like holding everybody hostage. It diminishes everyone else. And ultimately, your friends don't require it of you.

I like birds and dogs. I'm allergic to cats.