I like my hands. They're certainly scarred up, but they're wormy. They're knuckly. They're hands that have done stuff, and they're not going anywhere.

I've named a couple things after Edgar Allan Poe: the cat, and my garden upstate, where I only planted black flowers and purple flowers - and there's a raven statue.

Gardening gloves are for sissies. I always have dirt under my nails.

I do hope that for the young women watching the show they know it is heightened reality and just grown ups playing teenagers. That's not how it is supposed to go. Just keep it to yourself.

I think the first couple of times you do make-out scenes, you psych yourself out and it's really nerve racking.

In the world of Facebook and Twitter, you can treasure hunt for tidbits about somebody that you find interesting and pretty much find out everything you need to know - which is why I stay away from social media - I'm terrified of it.

I don't engage in social media, which has its good and bad sides, I guess - but the good side is when people hate my guts, I'm kind of oblivious to it.