I am a divorced child, of divided, uncertain background. Within this division I - supposed fruit of their love - no longer exist. It happened nearly forty years ago, yet to me nothing is sadder than my parents' divorce.

Back then I didn't think a woman like that, or a relationship like that, could exist with complete freedom and no jealousy or possessiveness. I thought it sounded too good to be true and I was certainly convinced it wasn't the life for me!

I love to invent - avoiding the truth. I need to dramatize.

I don't expect too much from the afterlife, I think that I know very well what pain is. When I think of the end of my life, I think mainly: I didn't do nothing, but I could have done more.

You're much better off as a love goddess to die around the age of 40.

I'm very glad to have something to be passionate about. I can't imagine a life without passion.

No one has taken my heart in their hand. I haven't given it... I have lent myself, rented myself out, but never given myself.