“I don’t talk to everybody, so they don’t really know the real me. I don’t think anybody will.”

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.

A concert is not a live rendition of our album. It’s a theatrical event.

When we began, we approached it the way we did because we were not prepared to be out-of-work musicians, ever. We said either take it on as a serious commodity or don’t do it at all.

I have fun with my clothes onstage; it’s not a concert you’re seeing, it’s a fashion show.

I won’t be a rockstar. I will be a legend.

I love the fact that I can make people happy, in any form. Even if it’s just an hour of their lives, if I can make them feel lucky or make them feel good, or bring a smile to a sour face, that to me is worthwhile.

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.

The only real game, I think, in the world is baseball.

The real female should be partly male and the real male should be partly female anyway.

The only way you can become a legend is in your coffin

Nobody who’s really using his ego, his real ego, has any time for any goddam hobbies.

But what’s real? You can’t find the truth, you just pick the lie you like the best.

The man of affluence is not in fact more happy than the possessor of a bare competency, unless, in addition to his wealth, the end of his life be fortunate. We often see misery dwelling in the midst of splendour, whilst real happiness is found in humbler stations.

Whether one traces his Americanism back three centuries to the Mayflower, or three years to the steerage, is not half so important as whether his Americanism of today is real and genuine. No matter by what various crafts we came here, we are all now in the same boat.

In any real democracy, magistracy isn’t a benefit—it’s a burdensome responsibility that can’t fairly be imposed on one individual rather than another.