My high school was a private school where you went to an Ivy League. That's just what was expected of you and nothing less. So I grew up never being okay with a 'B' because a 'B' was not good enough.

Its a very wonderful yet difficult thing to be given a lot of really good opportunities and the world is at your fingertips.

I hate nothing more than having my nails painted. I feel like I'm in time out.

I remember when I first wanted to act my parents were supportive, but it was that they were like please, if you can find something else in the world, don't do this. So it wasn't even they're like 'Oh we've been waiting for you to arrive, welcome to the family business' kind of thing.

I like wearing my dads sweaters because I knew that he wore them when he held me when I was a baby.

My parents telling me that if there is a story you feel compelled to share, then you are responsible for doing that. You can't ask someone else to take on that story - or you can, but you have to deal with whatever the fallout is. If the story doesn't end up being told the way you originally heard it or that you feel it needs to be expressed, that's on you.

Just remembering that they [people with eating disorder] are young, beautiful and unique and that is worth everything in this world.