I am hated for loving. I am haunted for wanting.
I see myself rather like an old discarded dishrag.
Sometimes I wish I was just a simple drunkard.
All human activity is fruitless when pitted against the girls and boys singing on pop television, for they have found the answer as the rest of us search for the question. I will sing, too. If not, I will have to die.
It's so shameful of me: I like you.
Yes I have had a tan, actually. I went to Los Angeles and got one there, but it didn't make it back to Britain. You're not allowed to come through customs with a tan.