You can’t find true affection in Hollywood because everyone does the fake affection so well.
Anything you can do in excess for the wrong reasons is exciting to me.
The world of manic depression is a world of bad judgment calls.
I’m very sane about how crazy I am.
Mistakes are a drag, because you get in the area of regret and self-pity.
I have two moods. One is Roy, rollicking Roy, the wild ride of a mood. And Pam, sediment Pam, who stands on the shore and sobs… Sometimes the tide is in, sometimes it’s out.
I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital.
I am mentally ill. I can say that. I am not ashamed of that. I survived that, I’m still surviving it, but bring it on. Better me than you.
Certainly there are people who like me, but then there are those who don’t know me who gossip about me. You can’t believe the things I’ve heard.
I don’t want to be thought of as a survivor because you have to continue getting involved in difficult situations to show off that particular gift, and I’m not interested in doing that anymore.
One of the great things to pretend is that you’re not only alright, you’re in great shape. Now to have that come true – I’ve actually gone on stage depressed and that’s worked its magic on me, ’cause if I can convince you that I’m alright, then maybe I can convince me.
I don’t think Christmas is necessarily about things. It’s about being good to one another, it’s about the Christian ethic, it’s about kindness.
Instant gratification takes too long.
I really love the internet. They say chat-rooms are the trailer park of the internet but I find it amazing.
There were days I could barely struggle into a size 46 or 48, months of larges and XXLs, and endless rounds of leggings with the elastic at the waist stretched to its limit and beyond – topped with the fashion equivalent of a tea cozy. And always black, because I was in mourning for my slimmer self.