I wanted to see who this Yeats person was, and I said to my mother, 'I want a book by this person.' And she bought it for me, and a lot of it was over my head, but I had it.

Even as a child, I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want to wear red lipstick.

People called me the godmother of punk, but I never name myself anything.

I hate to be enclosed. I don't like bathroom doors - I don't shut them. In fact, in my house, I have no doors.

Ultimately, I want to make everyone horny.

By the time I was 10 or 11, I was completely demoralized. I thought, "I'm done. I'm never going to be a missionary," because my indiscretion column, whether it was little lies or stealing a Chunky bar, kept me from sainthood.

What is the impulse that drove to direct? To me, it seems so immense. Just having a rock 'n' roll band, or to go from the solitude of writing and to having to collaborate, is almost schizophrenic.