I don't know if this is the kind of retrospective analysis that people are fond of applying to their work or actions, but it feels like I knew I was going to be famous and I knew that an element of that would be traumatic, so that if I could make myself something big and otherworldly, it would be a kind of defence.

If love is something you cherish, it is hard to glean much joy from death, even in one's enemies.

As a performer, I'm very, very confident in what I do.

For me happiness occurs arbitrarily: a moment of eye contact on a bus, where all at once you fall in love; or a frozen second in a park where it's enough that there are trees in the world.

I'm famous now. But now that I've got fame and some of the other things I thought would make me happy - it ain't worked

I've always had this impulse to be destructive.

Anyone who's been poor and gets rich is stalked by guilt and fear. Guilt because you know it isn't fair, that life hasn't changed for everyone