“This wine is awful. Get me another glass.”

Your wayfaring thespian has returned

I can hardly hear you, John! The cheering and accolades are drowning out your gentle voice.”

I once hosted the non-televised portion of the People’s Choice Awards.

I’m positively bedeviled with meetings et cetera.

You do realize I’m a professional vocalist?

All in favor say aye.

“It’s probably nothing but I think I’ve killed a man.

I was worried sick, dear! ‘Where’s David? Or his bags?

I’m trying very hard not to connect with people right now.

I have lost all my skills, and now I know how it feels to be utterly helpless like you and your sister.

You must prepare for life, and whatever it will throw at you.

I am suddenly overwhelmed with regret, it’s a new feeling for me, and I don’t find it at all pleasurable.

You are the life you accept for yourself.

One day you will look at those photos with much kinder eyes and say, ‘Dear God, I was a beautiful thing!

I’ve been burned so many times I’m like the human equivalent of the inside of a roasted marshmallow.

I want you to know, John, that you are the most important thing in this world to me.

Some truths taste better with bourbon.

Major third complications can be overcome by lots of alcohol.

I’m sure drugs and alcohol perhaps would inspire new thoughts, but it’s certainly not something that I use as a tool or a mechanism to create.

It’s been said that alcoholics are egomaniacs with low self -esteem. It’s the prefect description. Being larger than life and yet your pride is crushed with self- loathing.

You got to realise that when I was 20 years old, I had a house, a Mercedes, a Corvette and a million dollars in the bank before I could buy alcohol legally.

I used to get drunk every night until I puked. Finally I admitted, “I am a bulemic”.

I once received a cape that was made from the little purple bags that Crown Royal Whisky comes in.

After moral poisoning, one requires physical remedies and a bottle of champagne.