Every week I read about myself in a magazine, about something that I haven't done or some place that I've never been or don't even know. It's just gossip, rumors, egos, and politics.

You're so convinced you'll disappoint people if you show them that you're not perfect. You don't realize you are perfect. Your imperfections are what make you perfect. They make you you. That's what people love. It's what I love too.

The devil comes to bring a fate you couldn't imagine in your wildest dream.

Obviously I want my music on the radio and I want my record to do well, but I also have a totally different career, so a lot of people who are in music are just in music and can dedicate all their time to that and I can't do that, so I really want to have both things and I'm just trying to figure out how.

I pop gum. My parents get so annoyed with me. I know my dad wishes he never taught me how to do that.

This was real. And it was me. I had lived that life, and I had died that death. I was staring at the very end of me.

When a newspaper comes out that says 'Duff' Puff - she must have gained 15 pounds' or something like that, how would any normal person react?