I just never saw my mother in any other room but the kitchen. There were always pots going.

I never saw any of my dad's stories. My mother said he had piles and piles of manuscripts.

My grandmother's house was just a place of comfort. I mean, I remember going in there, and the kitchen always had pots cooking with the lids were always bump, bump, bump, bump, bubbling, you know?

I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands.

My mother put a large chalkboard in her kitchen where I could draw. I drew what I saw around me.

My mother kept the house clean and we ate good. I didn't know we were poor until I started giving interviews.