When my husband gives me this ultimatum, "You either stop singing, or you move out," then it became very clear that what I needed to do - not just because I wanted to sing, but because I didn't want to live with anybody who issued ultimatums to me like that - would be to move out.

You have to be willing to look a certain way, and hold your body a certain way, until you get to where you want to go - I'm talking about musically, now.

When I stop asking questions, something's wrong.

I don't see how a person can be sensuous - unless they're just, you know, following some kind of script - without being vulnerable.

Once I started singing, I realized it was a language I'd forgotten I could speak.

My ex-husband has been one of my best teachers, and I believe that the areas of our life and the people in our lives that present the most problems to us - they really are our best teachers. They're teaching us lessons that we have to learn anyway, and if we don't accept the lesson from them, there will just be another teacher to step in and take their place.

I think that's the role of an artist, right? To touch someone and make us stretch out just a little bit more.