I've been so fortunate throughout my career, when I was doing theater, more theater than anything else, and when I was doing films that I got a chance just to do a broad range of things.

I was in a restaurant, and it just struck me, something I'd never thought of before. And it's menus in the restaurant just hit me. I was ordering and I thought, "God, think of all the people who handle these meals day in and day out" and they, I mean you're going to a restaurant, you can be pretty - you can feel secure that they wash the silverware in the kitchen and the linens and all that stuff, but they don't wash their menus, who washes menus? Now, I've got to worry about that for the rest of my life.

I come from a really big family, my father was a businessman and what he always instilled in us was to be your own boss. My father built up his business, and he was by no means a rich man, but he figured out how to work four-and-a-half days a week.

My ritual it's kind of an involuntary ritual. I lie awake the night before, worrying about award ceremony. Try and think of something to write in case I actually get up there. I write it at the very last minute like either in the car on the way to the ceremony or, you know, in the bathroom before the show starts. It's all of jumbled mess written on a napkin or a piece of toilet paper. That's my good luck ritual. It's just like being in college waiting for the last minute to do everything.

I was one of those people who put too much emphasis on work and career and material possessions, and it took its toll on all my relationships, on my physical health, my emotional and mental health.

It's always a problem with television and with films, you always shoot things out of sequence, so you just take your best stab at every moment. You can't really - you'll drive yourself crazy if you dwell on the negative aspects of it or your shortcomings.

Theres always next year, ... except, you know, for Ray Romano.