I'm not interested in perfection. The universe is perfect, and there are some works of art that we see as perfect, but human beings aren't perfect.
I try not to drink too much because when I'm drunk, I bite.
Without passion, the powers-that-be can run roughshod over you.
I'm the last of the truly tacky women. I do trash with flash and sleaze with ease.
You have to think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread, but you have to know that you're not.
I decided years ago not to read stories about myself anymore. Each one is a potential minefield: Whatever it says, you're bound to take it the wrong way. Why do it if you know it's going to make you miserable?