I’m not a mean person, but I have a capacity for it. I have the biting comment formed somewhere in the back of my head — like it’s in captivity. Sometimes people expect that I’m going to be tough. It’s not a bad situation. People treat you better. People are on time.

A combustion engine of ambition and disappointment.

You transition as a mother from literally just pulling a booger out of that person's nose whenever you see one until at some point they assert: "No, I'm a person. You can't fix my underpants on the subway."

Television is a runaway train that you have to get on for nine months of the year. But at the same time, it has a wonderful immediacy.

Instead of trying to fit an impossible ideal, I took a personal inventory of all my healthy body parts for which I am grateful: Straight Greek eyebrows. They start at the hairline at my temple and, left unchecked, will grow straight across my face and onto yours.

I had to get back to work... NBC has me under contract; the baby and I only have a verbal agreement.

You can’t be that kid standing at the top of the waterslide, overthinking it. You have to go down the chute.