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'm the only one who still believes in Santa Claus!

I'm sure that I've already been dead.

As far as I'm concerned, love means fighting, big fat lies, and a couple of slaps across the face.

People say that I could sing the phone book and make it sound good.

When he takes me in his arms, and speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-colored glasses.

I want to die young. I think it's awful to get old, and sickness is ugly.