When you’re young and everything dramatic is exciting, you start to believe that hype that, in order to be an artist, you have to suffer. I’ve graduated from that school.

We don’t want people to have expectations of us, but then we have expectations of everybody else.

I can give away everything I posses, but am without love, and I have no happiness.

I have hour spurts when I feel fine and I can walk normal and stuff, other hours, I’m wobbling. I feel like there’s somebody behind me kicking my legs out from underneath me. The whole tumor symptom thing is crazy. It’s unpredictable. It really messes with your life.

I wouldn’t even hold my kids sometimes because I didn’t want them to spit up on me when I was dressed for an awards show.

Just because I have a guitar, it doesn’t mean that changes me. I still rhyme, I still sing.

How you gone win, when you ain’t right within? Uh-uh come again.

I don’t buy into that whole concept of success that I have this mountain with this moat around it and then I get into my big car and drive to my destination and never see people. That’s not my concept of success.

I’ve leaned on God for so long. “Hey, God, you just gave me this gift, and I’m just going to go out there and sing.” But I’m realizing how much larger and how expansive my gift becomes when I actually pay attention to it and try to practice and try to perfect it.

I didn’t have that intense ambition to be a musician or an actress. I just enjoyed it. And by enjoying it, because I loved it, it enabled me to get better at what I was doing, because there was a love behind it.