I had endless issues with my appearance in Star Wars. Real ones - not ones you bring up so people think you're humble because you secretly find yourself adorable. What I saw in the mirror is not apparently what many teenage boys saw.

I think that the truth is a really stern taskmistress.

I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I've arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone's idea of heavenly, I could swear sometimes -- I hear angels sing.

My foray into the world of adults had taught me that very few people are willing to tell you the truth. It is something reserved only for the people who loved you the most unconditionally, the ones who were willing to absorb the denial and resentment that often accompanied it. It is a thankless job, that of the truth-teller.

The world of manic depression is a world of bad judgment calls.

Two of the saddest words in the English language are, 'What party?' And L.A. is the 'What party?' capital of the world.