There are times I feel my performance wasn’t the best. Sometimes, I feel embarrassed either by the role or the way I interpreted the role. I sincerely must accept that roles were not put across perfectly.

I was petrified when [my parents] first saw me [perform]. Well, also: because I wasn't really funny as a kid, and I felt like I was, y'know, exposing this alter-ego. Y'know? Plus, here I am getting up on stage and manipulating these people, y'know, into laughing. It's a power thing! Y'know? And it's weird to do it in front of your parents.

I was ashamed of myself when I realised life was a costume party and I attended with my real face

I am mortified to be on the stage, but then again, it's the only place where I'm happy.

When I step out on stage in front of thousands of people, I don't feel that I'm being brave. It can take much more courage to express true feelings to one person. [...] In spite of the risks, the courage to be honest and intimate opens the way to self-discovery. It offers what we all want, the promise of love.

I'm constantly embarrassed at the level of attention actors get and the level of money that we get. It's completely disproportionate. I think you have to feel guilty about it. I think it makes you a better person to keep reminding yourself.

I think onstage it was more me trying to show people my pain, and offstage it was just feeling it, period.

Knowing that his audiences are capable of forming bad impressions of him, the individual may come to feel ashamed of a well-intentioned honest act merely because the context of its performance provides false impressions that are bad. Feeling this unwarranted shame, he may feel that his feelings can be seen; feeling that he is thus seen, he may feel that his appearance confirms these false conclusions concerning him. He may then add to the precariousness of his position by engaging in just those defensive maneuvers that he would employ were he really guilty. In this way it is possible for all of us to become fleetingly for ourselves the worst person we can imagine that others might imagine us to be.

I think taking the stage is one of the most unnatural things anyone can do. In a way, just walking on stage actually creates an altered state–it's not right, no one's meant to do that, unless you're a priest or a magician, or something like that. To put somebody who's very incapable in many ways in to that position creates a combustion reaction inside me. I know that, and I take the stage knowing that.

We love seeing raw truth and openness in other people, but we’re afraid to let them see it in us. We’re afraid that our truth isn’t enough — that what we have to offer isn’t enough without the bells and whistles, without editing, and impressing. I was afraid to walk on that stage and show the audience my kitchen-table self — these people were too important, too successful, too famous. My kitchen-table self is too messy, too imperfect, too unpredictable. Here’s the crux of the struggle: I want to experience your vulnerability but I don’t want to be vulnerable.

Theatre needs you to go to a vulnerable place to find authenticity and truth

Most comedians want to be the architect of their own embarrassment. They have horrible self-esteem issues. I would rather push myself into the mud. I don't want to be pushed into the mud. I think that is probably true. I think most people struggle with self-acceptance. But comedians get a chance to self externalize.

The joy that I feel when I’m on stage, I can’t explain it to anyone. It feels like that first breath of a child. It’s sore and it’s uncomfortable but it’s a sign of life

Yeah, I'm definitely a completely different person onstage than offstage. It just comes from inside me. Everything that has happened to me up 'til now has everything to do with who I am today. It feels good to just be able to get on stage and release lots of suppressed emotion, things that aren't necessarily on the outside of who I am.