I wouldn't mind at all coming back to earth after my death.
I'm the only one who still believes in Santa Claus!
I've always wanted to sing, just as I've always known that one day I would have my own niche in the annals of song. It was a feeling I had.
I want to die young. I think it's awful to get old, and sickness is ugly.
As far as I'm concerned, love means fighting, big fat lies, and a couple of slaps across the face.
When he takes me in his arms, and speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-colored glasses.