For every two minutes of glamour, there are eight hours of hard work.

Walking into a room filled with people you don't know but who know you brings out your worst vulnerabilities.

Every time I am in danger of believing the glamour of my own press, some incident inevitably brings me back to earth.

The idea of stardom was difficult to grasp. It was like being schizophrenic; there was her, the woman on television, and the real me.

A press card does not provide you with an invisible shield. You're flesh and blood.

Although I was entirely relaxed on camera, if I had to stand up and say something to an assembled group of people, I was rendered all but inarticulate.

In the beginning, my mother humored me when I told her I wanted to be a reporter.