My childhood is streets upon streets upon streets upon streets. Streets to define you and streets to confine you, with no sign of motorway, freeway or highway.

I can smell burning flesh... and I hope to God it's human.

It begins in the heart...and it hurts when it's true. It only hurts because it's true.

This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores.

I don't mind if you forget me. Having learned my lesson, I never left an impression on anyone.

The Smiths are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever going to reunite - ever.

The Internet has obviously wiped music off the human map - killed the record shop, and killed the patience of labels who consider debut sales of 300,000 to not be good enough.