My mother and father could not handle even me being gay. We never talked about it really.

I want to carve out a serious period of time to focus on the next opera without any distractions. And to do that you need money.

I think my imagination and my passions are still firing away, but it's really the body that starts to make up the rules. It's not a major problem; it's just when you get a little older you realize how much your body thanks you when you are good to it.

I have a good face for what I do.

I think I've done a pretty fantastic job, but of course I want to sell millions of records.

All these poses of classical torture ruined my mind like a snake in the orchard. I did go from wanting to be someone, now I'm drunk and wearing flip-flops on Fifth Avenue.

I wish I could just relax sometimes and make some money, but I always feel like I have to prove some kind of big, profound point.