I think everything I do has Howard Roark [hero of The Fountainhead] in it, you know, as much as anything. The person I write for is Howard Roark.

Sometimes you're up against everybody in the whole world - even your friends and family are saying, "You need a single." You feel sometimes incredibly alone.

I love jokes as much as anyone, but I don't want to hear my snail jokes every day. But I might want to hear a good song every day.

I'm still no good at ball-and-stick games. If I go play golf with the guys, it's intended to be a joke.

I had spindly little ankles, and growing up in Canada, I couldn't skate. I was no good at any sports so was very much a pariah through those adolescent years.

Could hell be a place where there is no self-respect? A place where people have no pride in their own existence or behavior, and thus would have none for anyone or anything else?

I read recently that all of us can be defined in adult life by the way others perceived us in high school. I know [people] who had the popular, good-looking path in high school; they tend not to do so well. It was a little bit too easy for them, where for those of us who struggled in every sense, perhaps our determination and self-reliance and discipline were reinforced by that.