Anybody who has a problem with 'Skins' obviously doesn't understand teenage life.

I can be a bit grumpy. Im full of angst, and hormones.

Other people's success spurs me on to do well and gives me motivation.

I don't really have disappointments, because I build myself up for rejection.

I think all teenagers feel alone, and that nobody else knows what they are going through and all that sort of stuff.

I think if you set yourself specific goals, that's quite a lot of pressure.

I was really in to shiny things when I was younger and I stole a shiny tag for my dog. I didn't get caught. I hope I don't go to jail for that.

If you're out, and starving, and need a bite to eat, then you need fast food.

Supposedly I'm impossible to talk to. But it's honestly not me being difficult. Sometimes you just don't have a lot to say.

I think interviews can be fine. It's just there's this terrible fear of coming off wrongly or saying something that gets taken out of context.

I don't want to share my worries - that's for me to know.

I only know how to read because I steal books from rich people.

And we love to dance, especially that new one called the Civil War Twist. The Northern part of you stands still while the Southern part tries to secede.

The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.

The curse of an interesting life: there are either very good times or very bad times.

When we get to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere limitation and exclusion.

I still write poetry from time to time, but my whole life is so music-oriented at this point that it's hard for me to even think about having other hobbies.

Don't go on American Idol, I think you'll spend the rest of your life living it down and I think it's getting kinda scary, isn't it?

It's even hard for people to imagine today that telephones were wired, and they certainly were and you went to the end of a wire to make a phone call.

You mightn't happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well, many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese-toasted, mostly-and woke up again, and here I were.

Carved with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.