I wasn't taking drugs or drinking. I was working and working and working. But I wasn't writing anything.

Ms. It sounds like a sick bumblebee, it sounds frigid. I mean, who the hell would ever want to stick his hand up the dress of somebody who goes around calling herself something like Ms.? It's all so stupid.

Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine.

Life isn't some vertical or horizontal line -- you have your own interior world, and it's not neat.

The things I thought would happen didn't. Things I never anticipated unfolded.

Will you pretend you're my boyfriend?

I like energy. I like to feel it cracklin', I like sexual energy in a room, and I like tension.