I had a picture-perfect childhood. My parents were like June and Ward Cleaver; there was nothing dysfunctional about them.

I get paid to make out with the hunks!

I think I have a disease called spontaneous disclosure. I need to tell everyone my life story instantaneously.

Women's clutches are too small. I open my purse, and with some hydraulic force, a tampon shoots 12 feet into the air.

I always remind my kids, "I'm your parent, but I'm a human being, too, so I may not be perfect."

I'm not a prettier everywoman. I am an everywoman that they clean up awfully well for T.V.

My job affords me the luxury of having help. I don't feel exhausted, I feel lucky.

If I win, it's because of my natural ability and if I lose, it's because I wasn't trying so hard.

I try to make my heart beat out of my chest, hard-core, once a day for at least a half hour. I think that's very important.

If there's cheesecake in the house, I'll have some.

I think children are like pancakes. You sort of ruin the first one, and you get better at it the second time around.

I'd rather not have a moment when I'm known for my looks; being funny and interesting lasts longer.

If they asked me, I did two shifts. I did sports, I did news, because I loved it.

Communications is the number one major in America today. CNN had 25,000 applicants for five intern jobs this summer.

When I broke in, in 1957, it was wide open. Now you're up against strong competition.

My father died when I was nine and a half. We were on relief for two years. They call it welfare now, but it was relief then... I never forgot the generosity of New York.

The names are bigger, the show is worldwide, but I get a royal pass into life in the broadcasting business.

One thing I have learned is, if people tell you they had a "frank" discussion with someone, it is usually code for a yelling match with clenched fists.

I worked on the United Parcel Service truck, I sold home delivery of milk. But always, in the back of my mind, I wanted to get into radio.