All good things come in threes, and so too is it true with Gothamist's favorite smartphone-hating Mars Truther, Louis C.K. Earlier today, we enjoyed picking out the best NYC moments from Louie and watching C.K. rib Jimmy Fallon over his tight butt. Now, The Hollywood Reporter has released a big cover story on C.K., which includes just under 3,000 of his words about life in NYC.

That includes commentary on life in LA vs NY, struggling as a young comic in the early '90s, his cinematic and Broadway ambitions, his flirtation with hosting a Late Night show, getting recognized, taking the subway, the realities of making a TV show here, and his career trajectory: "I didn't start doing really well until I was about 42 years old; I'm 47 now, so I got 42 years against five good ones. I still have a lot to draw from, and life doesn't get easier. It's still cold when I'm outside like it is for everybody else."

Check out the whole article here (it's really worth it), but check out a few highlighted quotes below.

Late Nights:

New York really drew me from the very beginning. I came here for the first time when I was in high school, and I remember going into the subway by myself. It was the really old, white metal C trains, all dingy inside, and I went into a packed car. It was all these faces — tired-looking people, people from all over the world — and my heart was pounding. It was such a thrill just to be in that... I loved that you could go to a deli at three in the morning in New York, and it's filled with people. There isn't an hour in New York where you can't find a club where there are a bunch of people.

Loneliness:

I felt like I was breathing the right kind of air when I moved here. Of course, there were moments at first when I thought, "I can't do this." There's a sense of crushing loneliness that the city can impose on people, and it can sap you financially. But I lived out in L.A. for long stretches of time when I did other shows, and it's so chaotic and spread out that you can feel like you're drowning there.

The Struggle:

I wasn't making any money at the beginning. I used to hop the turnstile on my first subway ride of the night to get down to the Village, do the Comedy Cellar, get paid $8 and use that to get to The Improv in a cab...The year that SNL passed on me [1993] was the same year almost every comedy club in New York closed, and it was the one time where I really thought, 'I'm probably going to have to quit.' The early 1990s, they were ugly. The Cellar and the Strip were really the only clubs that survived that time, and they were empty. For almost five years of my life, I was starving. I'd do a club, and the owner wouldn't pay me. I'd say, "Where's the money?" and he'd say, "I'm just not paying you." That's how little leverage comedians had then. It was really, really hard.

SNL:

You, know, I'm so glad I didn't get cast on SNL. I'm way better off because I host it now. That's a million times cooler and more fun because to be a castmember there or a featured player or writer is a perilous, difficult, grueling office job — like the worst kind of office job, a 12-hour-a-day job with no end in sight. As a host, you have dinner with the cast and you hang out with Lorne. You get the best of that guy, and he's a great New York institution. As a host, you get to just sit next to him and watch him do a thing that very few people do anymore. Spending a week there is one of my favorite things I get to do.

Recognition:

A lot of people know me here now, and it can be a real bummer because I love to observe the city. When they're looking back at you, you don't get as much data about who they are. I like to feel like a member of the community, too, and whenever you're set apart, you feel less included. It took me a while to get used to it. I still have the same habits I always did. I still take the subway everywhere with my kids, but now I get on and there will be one or two people who know who I am and make me feel kind of weird. Sometimes somebody will loudly say hi to you, and then everybody is looking at you and it kind of ruins it. I try to say as little as possible so I can melt back in because that feels normal to me.

Money:

When I first started making tons of money, it freaked me out. I would always get 10 grand in cash every show because I needed to touch the money. I needed to feel like it wasn't just going to pay my bills. I'm a bit like boxers in that way. Boxers go and buy, like, a gold car because they just want to feel like they understand what they have. I'll be a little dumb like that. So I was squirreling away cash — I had something like $100,000 hidden in my apartment. This was probably 2012 and Chris [Rock] was over, so I showed him where I hide my $100,000, and he looked at me and said: "You're such a n—er. You're such a f—in' n—er." That's what he said, and I was pink and proud to be called that by him. I don't hide money in my house anymore.

Broadway:

If somebody said to me, "Here's a part in a play," I'd definitely try it, and some day I'd like to try to write one.

That's a huge mystery to me. Every time I go to a Broadway play of any kind — good or bad — as soon as the lights go out and people come onstage and start to speak, I start to cry. I can't help it. The first minute of any play feels really stupid — they're pretending the audience isn't there, and they're having this loud dialogue, and you're like, "What the f— are these people doing?" — but it's so vulnerable. It's such an effort, and it's such a generous thing to do, and so I always get all choked up.

Movies:

I would like to try making a movie. I'll probably do one next year.

I don't feel like I need anyone to tell me anything with a TV show because I know exactly what I'm doing, but I'd be arrogant to think that I can take someone's $8 million and just turn in a movie. Movies are different. There's a permanency to them. And I'd like to be able to shoot on the subway in New York City without the hassle that we have with the MTA [on Louie]. I watch movies where there are chases on the subway, and I'm like, "How the f— did you people get that kind of access?"

Awards:

The attention can make me uncomfortable. I go to the Emmys because there's just too much pressure not to go to the Emmys, and I don't want to be an asshole. But I feel like the awards are for everybody else because I got what I wanted: I got to have a show on TV, and I got paid to do it. I'm a total winner... I'm happy to have the writers awards, and I feel like I've earned them. I'm really trying hard with acting, but I feel like I'm more uneven as an actor. So I always get it [with regard to] who wins. Jim Parsons is on a show that's watched by 10 times the amount of people who watch my show. Why the f— would it go to me? I have a weird little show that's kind of disgusting, foul and rude, and most people don't like that, so I don't think it's even right for me to win it.

Equilibrium:

So when you go to L.A. and your liberal friend is rude to the valet guy or the busboy, it can be a little shocking. In New York, everyone is so mixed together that there's less of a feeling of class here. Outside some fancy office building, you see a CEO getting his cigarette lit by a cleaning lady. Everybody is dealing with the same shit, everybody is on the subway elbow-to-elbow.