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

Oh, I was not made for heaven. No, I don’t want to go to heaven. Hell is much better. Think of all the interesting people you’re going to meet down there.

Does it mean this, does it mean that that’s all anybody wants to know? I’d say what any decent poet would say if anyone dared ask him to analyze his work: if you see it, darling, then it’s there!

I was born to love you with every single beat of my heart. I was born to take care of you every single day of my life.

Excess is part of my nature. Dullness is a disease. I really need danger and excitement. I’m never scared of putting myself out on a limb.

I’m hopeless with money; I simply spend what I’ve got.

We are the Champions.

I don’t want to die, so sometimes I think it would have been better if I had never been born.

I want to lead the Victorian life, surrounded by exquisite clutter.

Whatever I am doing, I am not doing it for money but for music.

I’m a very emotional person, a person of real extremes, and that’s often destructive both to me and others.

I think we are all princes of the universe.

Onstage, I am a devil. But I’m hardly a social reject.

A lot of my songs are fantasy. I can dream up all kinds of things. That’s the kind of world I live in. It’s very sort of flamboyant, and that’s the kind of way I write. I love it.

Boredom is the biggest disease in the world, darling.

Years ago, I thought up the name Queen. It’s just a name. But it’s regal, obviously, and sounds splendid.

Can you imagine how terrible it is when you’ve got everything and you’re still desperately lonely? That is awful beyond words.

Some of us are afraid of dying; others of human loneliness. Profane was afraid of land or seascapes like this, where nothing else lived but himself.

Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time’s eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

It is my dying wish to travel around the world; to feel this hurt in a slightly different way!

Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.