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.

My conservatory is in the streets. My intelligence is instinct.

Americans want beauties, not me. I’m not the Parisian bombshell they expected. Can you see me as a chorus girl? Where’s my feather up the ass? They think I’m sad, they’re dumb. I don’t connect to them

To be successful in my native France, where people speak the same language and understand me, is nothing.

I want to make people cry even when they don't understand my words.

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

I can die now. I've lived twice.