Once I retire and slow down, I don't want to be in New York. I want to be somewhere near a lake or a pond, so that on my days when I have nothing to do, I can go fishing.

I know for one thing that alcohol will have no more part in my life.

I've got these five-pound weights and a treadmill in the living room. I work out the other parts that have affected my voice: my diaphragm - doctors took mine out in surgery - and my lungs. I've got to build back my legs, too, so I can run across that stage. I've got a lot to do, but I'm going to get out, sing songs and tell the stories.

Some people can sit down and write a song, but they can't go on stage like I can.

I'm singing, you know, because I'm happy and I'm free.

Doctors removed my gallbladder and pancreas, which are supposed to break down sugar and alcohol.

Not only do I say, get up and get out, I tell the cancer to get up and get out. And if you don't get up and get out, I'm going to shout you out. And I get to shout.