I can understand other people's situations in their own terms, but I still can't understand mine.

Fashion as a whole is a farce, completely. The people behind it are perverted, the styles are created by freaked out people, just natural weirdos. I know this because I worked with all those people while I was modeling.

I have an accident about every two years, and one day it won't be an accident!

I came to New York to see what I could see - that's from a children's book, isn't it? - and to find the living part.

It's not that I'm rebelling. It's that I'm just trying to find another way.

Have you ever analyzed things to the degree where you can’t really remember the difference between what’s real and what you’ve created in your head?

I made a mask out of my face because I didn't realize I was quite beautiful. God blessed me so. I practically destroyed it. I had to wear heavy black eyelashes like bat wings, and dark lines under my eyes, and cut all my hair off, my long dark hair. Cut it off and strip it silver and blonde. All those little maneuvers I did out of things that were happening in my life that upset me.