I hope you die.... P.S. If you do die, I'm going to go to the funeral and finger your corpse.

I think people just love to win.

So my reaction to hearing this corny-ass, horrible song ["With Arms Wide Open" by Creed] is violent, uncontrollable, sustained weeping.

Whatever I write I publish. Because that's where the money is.

I'm not sure what it would mean to have "made it." Made what? Yes, I can make a decent living in show business, so if that's the criteria, then I've made it. But that doesn't feel that important to me. The stuff that matters to me are the new challenges. I know that sounds hokey, but it's true.

I hope you die.... P.S. If you do die, I'm going to go to the funeral and finger your corpse.

I take my coffee like I take my women... strong... black... and proud.