I have always had strong maternal instincts. Even when I was still a child I cut out pictures of prams from newspapers and imagined the feeling of pushing my own pram through fresh winter snow and seeing the wheels' tracks behind me in the snow.

There was a time when the music fell silent. Both within me and around me.

My professional persona never loosens its grip, keeping an eye on me at all times.

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 must be allowed to be as I am.

I may have aimed too high sometimes, asked too much of myself and demanded too little from those around me.

When you love someone, and you've lost that one, then nothing really matters.