I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I’d like to be known.
We’re so trendy we can’t even escape ourselves.
We must know what we think and speak out, even at the risk of unpopularity.
The thrill and embarrassment of becoming international pop stars was too much, so we opened our mouths and put our foot in sometimes.
Sometimes I’ve been to a party where no one spoke to me a whole evening. The men, frightened by their wives or sweeties, would give me a wide berth. And the ladies would gang up in a corner to discuss my dangerous character.
Millions of people look at you with love and excitement while you stand alone getting ready to do something.
It’s nice to be included in people’s fantasies but you also like to be accepted for your own sake.
It was so fast and explosive. I didn’t know how to deal with it. If there was a Rock Star 101 course, I would have liked to take it. It might have helped me.
If I went to jail, at least I wouldn’t have to sign autographs.
If chasing cool is important to you, you’re an idiot!
I just can’t believe anyone would start a band just to make the scene and be cool and have chicks. I just can’t believe it.
I do understand. I understand that you are offered a loveliness and you vomit on it, that you have the gift of love given you such as few men have ever known and you throw on it the acid of your pride, your ugly twisted sense of importance.
