I don't like Los Angeles. The people are awful and terribly shallow, and everybody wants to be famous but nobody wants to play the game. I'm from New York. I will kill to get what I need.
I want a baby from an Italian - possibly Sicilian - donor.
I want kids. I want a soccer team, and I want a husband.
My talent matters more to me than the money does.
I'm supposed to be, I am an artist. Yes, I'm lonely. But I'm married to my loneliness.
You're love is nothing I can't fight. Can't sleep with a man who dims my shine.