I just realized that I never look at a painting and ask, 'Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?' It’s just a painting.

In memoir, can you really tell the truth about yourself? You're not going to write about your little peccadilloes, like, "I like a finger in my ass during sex." Or whatever it is. You're not going to come out in typical everyday conversation and say that. That's something that's going to be only for a select few.

I have no interest in being a trained ballerina. People should dance how they want to dance. I want to be the funky chicken.

Most of the answers to the world could be answered with our bodies.

I'm sure we're going to find out one day that the brain is as worthless as the appendix.

There's always tons of crap music people are trying to sell us - [it's] the same way with publishers and galleries.

I think a pretty good modus operandi is to believe that everything we know is wrong. The stomach will be the key to depression or consciousness or we'll realize ants are smarter than people.