“Now there’s a joy inside I can’t containBut even perfect days can end in rainAnd though it’s pouring downI see You through the cloudsShining on my face.”

“There’s something happening here, I know it. It’s right in front of my face, but I just can’t see it.”

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the wounded male ego. It’s as though Hollywood thinks I’ve got some choice in whether I like him or not. As if. I can’t change who I am.”

“I know your eyes in the morning sunI feel you touch me in the pouring rainAnd the moment that you wander far from meI wanna feel you in my arms again”

“A part of me wants to believe that I was born an artist. That it was my inexorable destiny to become a writer. I can’t see any other way, I can’t see a different path. It makes being an artist something special. The world can’t stop me, simply because I am who I am. There’s nothing that can define me more than being an artist. It’s simple, it’s easy to understand, and it adds an almost transcendental element to art.”

“People often say that the English are very cold fish, very reserved, that they have a way of looking at things – even tragedy – with a sense of irony. There’s some truth in it; it’s pretty stupid of them, though. Humor won’t save you; it doesn’t really do anything at all. You can look at life ironically for years, maybe decades; there are people who seem to go through most of their lives seeing the funny side, but in the end, life always breaks your heart. Doesn’t matter how brave you are, how reserved, or how much you’ve developed a sense of humor, you still end up with your heart broken. That’s when you stop laughing. In the end there’s just the cold, the silence and the loneliness. In the end, there’s only death.”