When anything huge happens to me, I always think, this isn't my moment, this is a moment.

I think every person and place is interesting, and there's an interesting story behind every door.

As soon as I say I'm from Texas people say, "Oh, I'm sure the school was horrible" and they picture me wearing some barrel and suspenders and people are bucktoothed and ignoring me. But that's not the case. I just had zero interest. I wanted to finish my research in the woods or play guitar or go have a cigarette.

It's not the child's responsibility to teach the parent who they are. It's the parent's responsibility to learn who the child is.

I think my brain just has a natural way of going to what would be the most insane thing, the least likely option.

Life can very genuinely and realistically pile things on. It doesn't dole out the heartache and pain, or joy, perfectly.

When I announced I had cancer on stage, it was my brain leaping to that insane moment of, "There's no way I could start a show saying, 'Hi, I have cancer!'" And also for me to have these scars, and then think, "Oh my gosh, what if I did stand-up and not even acknowledge that my shirt was off, or that I have scars.