You lose your grip, and then you slip into the Masterpiece.

I've forgotten most of what I've read and, frankly, it never seemed very important to me or to the world.

You were Marlon Brando, I was Steve McQueen, you were K.Y. Jelly, I was Vaseline.

I think the term poet is a very exalted term and should be applied to a man at the end of his work. When he looks back over the body of his work and he's written poetry then let the verdict be that he's a poet.

This civil action is another case of a tragedy that has become all too familiar in the music industry: a business manager and professional advisers exploit an immensely talented artist's loyalty and trust through greed, self-dealing, concealment, knowing misrepresentation and reckless disregard for professional fiduciary duties.

Why don't you try to do without him, why don't you try to live alone? Do you really need his hands for your passion? Do you really need his heart for your throne? Do you need his labor for your baby? Do you need his beast for the bone? Do you need to hold a leash to be a lady? I know that you can make it, you can make it on your own.

Love is a fire/It burns everyone/It disfigures everyone/It is the world's excuse for being ugly.