Remember how you made me crazy, remember how I made you scream.

It was a pretty good year for predators.

I'm always jotting things down on pieces of paper. I've got pieces of paper all over my house.

I have a bad back partially from playing the drums and singing. I used to have to hold my body in such a position that my spine got out of alignment.

This year, notoriety got confused with fame, and the devil is down hearted because there is nothing left for him to claim.

I now derive physical and spiritual pleasure from gardening and there is tremendous satisfaction in knowing that I could survive almost anywhere if I had to.

Fame, at one time, was associated with accomplishment, but in this day and age fame and notoriety have become confused.