I think much has been made of this alter ego business. I mean, I actually stopped creating characters in 1975 - for albums, anyway.

If I put faith in medication, if I can smile a crooked smile, if I can talk on television, if I can walk an empty mile.

I'm quite certain that the audience that I've got for my stuff don't listen to the lyrics.

It's not the side-effects of the cocaine - I'm thinking that it must be love. It's too late to be grateful, It's too late to be hateful, It's too late to be late again, The European cannon is here.

What I do is I write mainly about very personal and rather lonely feelings, and I explore them in a different way each time. You know, what I do is not terribly intellectual. I'm a pop singer for Christ's sake. As a person, I'm fairly uncomplicated.

I'm a born librarian with a sex drive.

Of course, we found out later Syd Barrett had mental problems. But there was something so otherworldly about him. He was hovering, like, six inches above the ground.