We sing because we can’t speak anymore. Dance is an extension of that – we dance because we can’t speak anymore.
Faith is something a lot of people relate to as a God-thing, but it’s also faith in yourself.
We sing because we can’t speak anymore.
I used to want to be tall, and then I thought, ‘If I were tall, then people would say I was pretty and not cute.’ And then I realized that there are worse things than being called cute.
I’m a wild lady. Not.
Well, you know, people don’t know me as a country artist and I am new to the genre. But that’s how I grew up singing.
I’m kind of a weirdo; I love prison movies and war movies.
I want to eat good Italian food and get better at their language. It seems so romantic too.
Chicago – it’s a mini-New York.
New York. It’s home to opera, Broadway, museums, the ballet and orchestra – everything that I love. The most real people in the world live there.
Norman, Okla. That’s where my folks live, so it’s home to me.
I love London because of the history. The times I’ve been there have been some of the best memories in my life. Singing there, seeing great theater – and the people like a Southern accent.
I am a creature of the sun. I don’t ever mind being in the heat.
I enjoy going to Palm Springs when I’m living in Los Angeles.
I love eating at Sonic with my family in Oklahoma. And no, I’m not kidding.
I don’t speak during the day. I warm up physically and, obviously, vocally, constantly. And I try to live like a nun.
We were all given our opportunities to be ourselves. A little bit of ourselves.
A professionally trained actress should be a better liar, wouldn’t you think? But no. I am pathetically underachieved in that area. I can think of a great lie. I’m plenty imaginative. But before the words are even out of my mouth, there’s a weird tickle of unease in my armpits, a horsefly of guilt lands on the back of my neck, and before I can stop myself, that gassy little bubble of truth belches out.
Do you know what a magical kingdom is in your ear? A fairy cave leads to an Ali Baba doorway, beyond which the bony little ossicles – Malleus, Incus, and Stapes – guard the great snail, Cochlea, to whom God has given the power to transform the indiscernible movement of air into music.
Nobody has all the answers. Even Jesus didn’t give us a straight-up rule book. He gave us stories and encouraged us to ask questions.