When you love someone, and you've lost that one, then nothing really matters.
The press has always written that I am a recluse and a mysterious woman, but I am more down-to-earth than they think.
I can spot empty flattery and know exactly where I stand. In the end it's really only my own approval or disapproval that means anything.
I have one pug and one Czechoslovakian dog called Prazsky krysarik.
There is a danger of changing too much in the search for perfection.
It's strange that the newspapers don't see a connection between their false revelations about my private life and my need for seclusion and security.