If you asked my kids to describe me, they'd go through a whole list of words before even thinking about Parkinson's. And honestly, I don't think about it that much either. I talk about it because it's there, but it's not my totality.

I might have skipped class, but I didn't miss any lessons.

I saw a birthday card the other day, and it said, "If you didn't know how old you were, how old would you think you were?" I started changing it in my mind right away to, "If you didn't know how sick you were, how sick would you think you were?"

If one of my kids reads a book for school and I can have a conversation with her about the book and I sense that she gets what the book is about, then it doesn't really matter to me if she gets an A on the paper.

I see possibilities in everything. For everything that's taken away, something of greater value has been given.

Life delivered me a catastrophe, but I found a richness of soul.

They did something once that slurred my speech, and I thought, "Oh, man, you're messing with my brain. It's freaking me out."