“I have loved eight women in my life. I remember every woman’s face.”

Mental health needs a great deal of attention. It’s the final taboo and it needs to be faced and dealt with.

Let’s just say that back in the old days, sex was available every two feet. But I never made love to anybody that did not want me to.

An 18th century brain, in a 21st century head.

I just think, certainly for live music it should look as good as it sounds.

I am quite an early riser – I usually get up between 5.30 and 6am and take the dogs out.

Achievement results from work realizing ambition.

I want to do a make-up line for men.

I watched Picasso visit the Planet of the Apes, as the masters rot on walls and the angels eat the grapes.

I loved being in a band.

People tend to keep their distance.

I like being infamous. I think it is safe being a cult.

I could be religious, if they sang the hymns to disco.

If you make a mistake, you should enjoy it.

I just became a vegetable for three months. I couldn’t talk to people. I was very ill and that was part of the reason I left college.

Cause people lose it, they lose it – they say: ‘I like that, and that’s not this.’

Bipolar disorder, manic depression, depression, black dog, whatever you want to call it, is inherent in our society. It’s a product of stress and in my case over-work.

I failed, I think, seven [or] eight times before I finally got my first [championship]. It was just, you know, just about me growing up.

I have never supported amnesty, and I led the fight against Chuck Schumer’s gang of eight amnesty legislation in the Senate.

One of the saddest things is that the only thing that a man can do for eight hours a day, day after day, is work. You can’t eat…nor make love for eight hours…

I later spent… five to eight months in hospitals in New Jersey, always on an involuntary basis, and always attempting a legal argument for release.

There have been only 268 of the past 3,421 years free of war.

It’s a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can’t eat for eight hours; he can’t drink for eight hours; he can’t make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work.

It just seems like we get more popular every eight years or so. For some reason, it becomes cool to like Motorhead again.

I was born January 6, 1937, eight years after Wall Street crashed and two years before John Steinbeck published The Grapes of Wrath, his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about the plight of a family during the Great Depression.