“I was skinny as a rail and had high cheekbones and a very interesting face – or so I was told.”

Music has its own depths, and I let it take me where it takes me, even if it means stripping all my clothes off.

I can look at a fur and tell if it’s good or not.

Rock n’ roll can get quite overwhelming. You can get caught up in the cycle.

Some songs come from my head, some from my throat, but there will always be moments when it is an injection of the soul.

I love women, but I’ve never had a relationship with a woman.

I believe in individuality, that everybody is special, and it’s up to them to find that quality and let it live.

My mother was a champion high-jumper. My three brothers are basketball players. We’ve all been very athletic.

I don’t collaborate. You’re born alone, you die alone, you get on stage alone.

Whatever; bling always has something to hide.

If people think I’m angry, I don’t want to burst anybody’s bubble. I like sometimes for people to be afraid of me. But it’s not really anger; it’s discipline.

I like working until the morning, so I can see the day and then I like to go to sleep and then get up before sunset. But I love the energy of the morning.

My father would have been made a bishop much earlier than he was had it not been for me and my image.

I don’t like people who hide things.

Everyone has to make their own decisions. I still believe in that. You just have to be able to accept the consequences without complaining.

I don’t think ‘pop’ should mean that you had no talent.

It’s ridiculous for a woman to say that she’s not attracted to other women. That’s completely false.

I’m feeling fearless in my skin, no matter what curveball life tries to throw at me.

Touch you with no skin only with my eyes speak with no words only with my mind.

Grace is found flourishing beneath skin blooming from each scar.

Feel the sun on your skin and smile and let your mind wander a while.

Will you preach to your former self? Leave your old habits on the shelf? shed the skin of days gone by. A human butterfly.

Let me lie next to you. Let my skin speak to your skin in silence.

I’m still trying to fix up the wreckage you left behind, the chaotic strings of misery you let fall to the floor. Each piece delicately piercing my skin, the red glow a contrast to my continual white limbs.

Dreams of our last night together left a tingling feeling like a splinter in my skin. I couldn’t grasp it, but the glorious pain sat brewing into my bones.