June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.

You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

I would have liked to have known Oscar Wilde because I think he must have been very amusing and entertaining.

That's the question: is truth an illusion, or is illusion truth, or are they essentially the same? Myself, I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.

I like to talk on TV about those things that aren't worth writing about.

The only obligation any artist can have is to himself. His work means nothing, otherwise. It has no meaning.

Most people don't find their creativity. There are more unsung geniuses that don't even know they have great talent.