It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

I remember being shocked when I came out from under the focusing cloth after a minute or two being submerged within that, at the startling green color of those ferns.

I remember the time I was kidnapped and they sent a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

I remember when I was starting out as a young actress, thinking, 'Oh my God, I have the fattest face.' Now I look at those pictures and I think, 'So much collagen!'

It doesn't matter who they put in front of me, I just want people to remember me.

I remember teachers who really singled me out for their discouragement.