I have these accidents, these mistakes, these self-inflicted wounds, and then I tear my head to shreds about it for days.

In the quest to be clever, I completely forgot about the people that I love and that love me.

I'd like to think the best of me was still hiding up in my sleeve.

By the way, pornography? It's a new synaptic pathway. You wake up in the morning, open a thumbnail page, and it leads to a Pandora's box of visuals. There have probably been days when I saw 300 vaginas before I got out of bed.

I may have taken someone through the wringer psychologically, but I've never been sinister.

Most times when you try to be all things to all people, you end up being nothing.

My hits are not hits.