You look up one day and you hate the whiskey, and you hate the women, and you hate the piano. But that's all you got. You can't do nothing else. All you know how to do is play that piano. Now, who am I? Am I me? Or am I the piano player?

Like most people, I have this sort of love-hate relationship with Pittsburgh. This is my home, and at times I miss it and find it tremendously exciting, and other times I want to catch the first thing out that has wheels.

It's not as if he didn't understand that much of his behavior was driven by desperation and self-hate, ... He wasn't shallow or unreflective, quite the contrary. It was simply the way he was. He was born wild, born troubled. He wasn't designed for the long haul; not everyone is.

I try to have reasonably happy endings because I would hate any child to be cast down in gloom and despair; I want to show them you can find a way out of it.

I hate women because they always know where things are

I think all women go through periods where we hate this about ourselves, we don't like that. It's great to get to a place where you dismiss anything you're worried about. I find flaws attractive. I find scars attractive.