Michael Jackson plays the wounded puppy very well. 'I must be the loneliest man in the world'. Well, you're not a man. And the loneliness is self inflicted, so sod off you pathetic puerile pimp. I wonder what color his willy is.

Punk became a circus didn't it? Everybody got it wrong. The message was supposed to be: Don't follow us, do what you want!

It's volatile, the marriage. Which one isn't? Nothing better than a good, full-on row. Get it all out. Say rude and nasty things. And then be sorry. Genuinely sorry, afterwards.

I never take any commitment lightly, and I certainly don’t take my wife lightly. I never did and I never will. That’s permanent. That’s true love.

There are no limits to where our brains can take us. We are, if there be a God, God's gracious creation.

If I'm left to my own devices, I will be tempted to make the most unlistenable music possible.

Situationism is a ludicrous proposition. It's ill-formed and it's perfectly French. That Gallic disposition towards common sense. L'Anarchie!