Being blond is definitely a different state of mind. I can't really put my finger on it, but the artifice of being blond has some incredible sort of sexual connotation.

If you're sure of who you are it doesn't really matter what people call you, does it?

Part of the reason I sort of shot out like a cannon out of Michigan and left home at such an early age is because I had to feel independent.

Do everything you're told. Be a good cheerleader. And never, never say, 'It's not so bad.' Say 'You are almost there!' And say it a lot.

I made a vow that I would never need another person ever. Turned my heart into a cage, a victim of a kind of rage.

You bring me to my knees, while I'm scratching out the eyes of a world I want to conquer, and deliver, and despise. And right while I am kneeling there, I suddenly begin to care. And understand that there could be a person that loves me.

In some respects I will never die. Because art is immortal. What we leave behind and what we create - the energy that we put out into the world is eternal.