Cosmic systems intertwine, astral bodies drip like wine, all of nature ebbs and flows. Comets shoot across the sky, can't explain the reasons why, this is how creation goes.

The beast is the modern world that we live in! The material world. The physical world. The world of illusion that we think is real. We live for it; we're enslaved by it. And it will ultimately be our undoing.

Honestly, I don't read newspapers, magazines, whatever. They're just not part of my lexicon. I don't want to be manipulated, or manipulated about other people's work.

As an artist myself, I know what it's like to put your heart and soul into something. You can feel the presence of another person.

You realise that having a number one record and being loved and adored isn't the most important thing in the world. But at the same time, I don't have a problem with it.

When I'm dead and no longer the threat. My comfort is that all the great artists since the beginning of time have always been completely misunderstood and never fully appreciated until they were dead.

There's a certain satisfaction in a little bit of pain.