To me, wrestling is therapy. No matter how bad my personal situation is, when I step into the ring, all my troubles disappear. My baggage stays in the back where it belongs.
Jon Stewart says that he was a little kid with a big head. He had very little athletic ability. He went out to the soccer field, and it was awful.
Kids want to saute, to cut the pizza, to see how the ingredients come together. If you let them do the fun stuff, they'll develop skills and interests that will stay with them forever.
I still enjoy performing, whether it's in front of two people or 2,000 people, but it's not fun once you leave the big show.
When you screw up in the ring, it's so embarrassing. But the fans don't know you screwed up unless you act like you just made a mistake.
Just because I've got blonde hair and haven't been to Bosnia doesn't mean I'm a bimbo. I am still a serious journalist.
Friends are very understanding when you tell them in April that you can see them next September, but there is a limit to how long you can go on like that.
Not every programme dealing with issues of global significance has to be fronted by last week's winner of Have I Got News For You-but I suppose you might be wrong.
It's absolutely fine to think of new ways of doing things, and I'm not just asking for the traditional reporter to look into our living rooms night after night.
Over the last two years, I have been able to comb through The Prince's archives. I have been free to read his journals, diaries and many thousands of the letters.
I fail to understand how you can justify a poll tax on the entire population, yet exclude a significant proportion of that population from programmes that this tax is paying for.
But if I've heard this saying once, I've heard it a thousand times- everything happens for a reason. And possibly it does. I just haven't found the reason that this all happened yet.
As a young man, causes of one kind or another engaged me, and I thought the media is where you express yourself in that. I lived with the illusion, for quite a long time, that if you described something accurately, something would be done about it.
I have the largest collection of Hulk memorabilia in the world - everything from toilet paper, wallpaper, bicycles - all boxed up at my house in Northern California. I've had it for so long, I think it might be time to sell it.
Friday was Atlanta. That was fifteen bucks. Once a month, we made a six hundred mile trip from Indianapolis down to Atlanta, and at fifteen dollars, by the time you feed yourself and buy gasoline, you're minus about ten bucks.
Now I'm starting, relatively, to think straight again. I live one day at a time, one hour at a time. What makes it all worthwhile is my children.
Educate yourself. Understand what you're dealing with. Then figure out how to fight it. Then figure out how to raise money for that fight. It'll help you cope. It'll help your child.
All morning they watched for the plane which they thought would be looking for them. They cursed war in general and PTs in particular. At about ten o'clock the hulk heaved a moist sigh and turned turtle.
If the present Mrs. Wogan has a fault - and I must tread carefully here - if she has a fault, this gem in the diadem of womanhood is a hoarder. She never throws anything out. Which may explain the longevity of our marriage.
I don't think the Hulk is a superhero. He's the first Marvel character who is a tragic monster. Really an anti-hero.
I spent my entire Irish Catholic youth in a constant state of guilt over imaginary sins. I learned that nothing is a sin as long as you don't take pleasure from it.
