My father belonged to a commune, and the food was ghastly. My idea of food hell is the salad cream they'd pour all over bits of lettuce, cucumber and tomato. It was just disgusting.

I have to be able to love somebody except myself and the theater.

I went to the big Picasso retrospective at the Tate in the sixties, and I think I went to an Andy Warhol retrospective at the Tate in the sixties, too. My mother was very good at taking me to things like that. We lived in Reading, but we went on these cultural trips to London.

I never trusted anybody at all. I don't know why it was so hard, I just didn't.

I shoot my big mouth off; it just pops up! I have to learn to edit myself.

I've got a lot of little compulsive problems, and I've thought about it a lot. And one of the things I ask myself is, 'What are the things I can do that won't hurt me and will help me?' The first answer is work.

I think drugs were used by me as a way of suppressing my natural spirit.