Everyone always told me that I had the symptoms of a P.O.W.

I was diagnosed with everything from schizophrenia to multiple personality disorder.

I ran into an extraordinary doctor. He got up inside my head and figured out how my brain processed things, what my core values were, what my inner dialogue was.

Performing with anthrax in the building is not nearly as difficult as performing in a home where you might get stabbed at night.

I don't know if I want to be a big star though.

If I can get a sanitized version of reality, I'll take it.

It can't have been fun to live with somebody whose brain was under siege.

I'll get to make a lot of money and do some bad sitcoms.

I think I wanted to write a book about the relationship between the victim and perpetrator in which the victim agrees to remain silent.

I've learned sometimes you just have to take the bad from people.

I have to give the SNL crew props - it cannot have been easy to work with me.

Nothing is sweeter and addictive than power, the unlucky soul this demon possesses, if he is not sacrificed on its altar will sacrifice others himself to get it

Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it's realistic or not.

Some words are like the old Roman galleys large-scaled and ponderous. They sit low in the water even when their cargo is light.

Opportunity rarely knocks on your door. Knock rather on opportunity's door if you ardently wish to enter.

If we were in tune and communing with God every moment, where would be the need to pray or ask for anything?

No one is entitled to the truth.

Whatever suffering there is in this world,all arises from desiring only myself to be happy.And whatever joy there is in this world,all arises from desiring to share my happiness with everyone.

My peers at the time: you know, young black kids from off the streets of Harlem, having these conversations with me in my small, dirty little studio up in Harlem.

You can certainly keep a low public profile if you want to.

Some of the Fathers went so far as to esteem the love of music a sign of predestination, as a thing divine, and reserved for the felicities of heaven itself.