“In the early days, we just wore black onstage. Very bold, my dear. Then we introduced white, for variety, and it simply grew and grew.”

Modern paintings are like women, you’ll never enjoy them if you try to understand them.

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

We’re a bit flashy, but the music’s not one big noise.

In terms of love, you’re not in control and I hate that feeling. I seem to write a lot of sad songs because I’m a very tragic person. But there’s always an element of humor at the end.

I dress to kill, but tastefully.

The concept of Queen is to be regal and majestic. Glamour is part of us, and we want to be dandy.

I’m just a musical prostitute, my dear.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, I feel good, and no one’s going to stop me now.

Who wants to live forever?

I like to be surrounded by splendid things.

The most important thing is to live a fabulous life. As long as it’s fabulous I don’t care how long it is.

My game of love has just begun, love runs from my head down to my toes. My love is pumping through my veins. Play the game, driving me insane.

One year of love is better than a lifetime alone.

I think my melodies are superior to my lyrics.

I’m as gay as a daffodil, my dear!

You can have everything in the world and still be the loneliest man. And that is the most bitter type of loneliness, success has brought me world idolization and millions of pounds. But it’s prevented me from having the one thing we all need: A loving, ongoing relationship.

I can adapt to any environment or any situation I need to, so I am ready to go to Russia. You take what you get or start crying about it, but I am re-doing ‘Rocky IV.’ I am doing the black ‘Rocky.’

As blacks, all we got is sports and entertainment. That’s the only way out the hood sometimes.

I believe every pencil has to be sharpened every now and then to stay sharp, or you dull out. So my records, I chose to speak on what black people do, what white people do, what women do, what men do.

I found my old diary tonight. A brokenness I had forgotten pen pressured so deep it punctured page. I ran my fingers over my words and there inside ridges black I found a little girl desperate for someone to save her, desperate for the very woman I have become.

I can’t have brown hair for some reason. I don’t think it goes with my skin tone. The second I see it turn brown in the sun, I dye it black – the blacker the better.

Since I was 16, I’ve felt a black cloud hangs over me. Since then, I have taken pills for depression.

He could only give her a world in black and white. And all she wanted was a life of color.

I wasn’t shy, but I was really hyper. Nobody got my sense of humor. I was a black skater kid.