I pick up other people's trash. I'm sort of obsessed.

I pick up on other people's discomfort.

I'm just angry at the sort of things that are winding up in ground beef. I'm angry that other people - mainly children - are going to be sickened by eating a hamburger.

I think love is blind. I hate to use that cliched statement, but people, when they love somebody, they seem to be able to somehow to put aside red flags.

The problem with items is that someone has to pick through them to find the gems and discard the trash, and believe me there's a lot of trash, ... And no one has time in the Gulf states right now to perform that task.

I've sort of always been obsessed with telling stories and making things up.