I went out into the world when I was about 22. I wrote books and I illustrated books and did book covers, and I taught tap-dancing, and I was a model in the art school. I had no ability for any of those things, but what else could I do?

The British do not expect happiness. I had the impression, all the time that I lived there, that they do not want to be happy; they want to be right.

Every day someone notices me and waves to me, or stops and speaks to me, or asks me for an autograph, or photographs me.

I don't believe in convention at all. I do what I have to do to stay alive.

People say to me, "When did you come out?" But I was never in! When I was about six, I was swanning around the house in clothes that belonged to my mother and my grandmother which I'd found in an attic, saying, "I am a beautiful princess!" What my parents thought of this, I don't know. But they bore it. And the real problem was not my sin, but my unemployability.

As far as I know, you can fancy someone, you can enjoy their company or you can wish them well. But what being in love is, I don't know.

What is privacy if not for invading?