My second marriage had a lot to do with alcohol.

I can choose to accelerate my disease to an alcoholic death or incurable insanity, or I can choose to live within my thoroughly human condition.

I believe in joy, but I believe in the flip-side, agony.

Like so many other recovered alcoholics, I am to this day bewildered that it took so long for me to understand that there was no such animal as 'social drinking' for me; that it had nothing to do with my willpower or self-respect or moral fiber, that it was a simple biochemical intolerance to a drug.

I have no use for people who hunt for what they call sport

I have always had a lot more trouble with my truths than with my deceits

My name is real, which probably explains why I never became a superstar... how would that look in lights?