“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me. Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back, and don’t take it away from me, because you don’t know what it means to me.”

When I’m dead, I want to be remembered as a musician of some worth and substance.

I’m possessed by love, but isn’t everybody?

Put out the good and keep the bad – don’t believe all you read in the Bible.

I am a romantic, but I do put up a barrier around myself, so it is hard for people to get in and to know the real me.

Freddie was the frontman/lead singer of the famous band The Queen . His songs revolve around the notion that one should follow their dreams and pursue one passion. A life without passion is a life without joy.

The others don’t like my interviews. And frankly, I don’t care much for theirs.

The reason we’re successful, darling? My overall charisma, of course.

Success is my breathing space. I brought it on myself. I will price it, I will cash it, I can take it or leave it. Loneliness is my hiding place, breastfeeding myself. What more can I say? I have swallowed the bitter pill, I can taste it. Life is real.

But touch my tears, with your lips. Touch my world, with your fingertips. And we can have forever. And we can love forever. Forever is our today.

I was never too keen on the British music press. They’ve called us a supermarket hype, and they used to suggest that we didn’t write our own songs.

We should never be disappointed with money; Because we only get what we have got.

My soul has painted like the wings of butterflies, Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends

I always knew I was a star. And now, the rest of the world seems to agree with me.

I fall in love much too quickly and that results in me getting badly hurt. The problem with love is that you lose control and that is a very vulnerable state to be in.

Too much love will kill you just as sure as none at all.

We’re a very expensive group; we break a lot of rules. It’s unheard of to combine opera with a rock theme, my dear.

People could stab me with knives and i would still get them aid, For i see a glimpse of me in them. But sadly, people aren’t mirrors.

I used to think my heart was made of glass the way it was so easy for you to shatter it.

A vicious cycle of becoming the thing that hurt you the most- Life.

Have I been buried alive by chronic pain? I can taste the dirt as they put me in the earth, thick on my lips like the honey that drips down my lips.

The darkness in her heart, is tearing her apart.

I’d rather suffer in silence than be subjected to deafening stares. I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship with my body, no one can see the bruises.

Don’t you know that shedding your pain only makes it reverberate.

The heart is foolish perhaps that’s why it falls in love, even after its hurt.