I wouldn't be myself if I weren't always trying to be someone else. I only have so much time on this earth and I want to be as many people as possible.

Every once in a while when I get a migraine, I like to think, "Who hates me today?"

You know you're screwed when a Western doctor recommends acupuncture.

I think what can be most shameful or embarrassing is when our bodies broadcast a secret we'd prefer no one to know. This is why I hate rashes, in particular face rashes.

We want to believe we couldn't be replaced, and that the people we love are irreplaceable.

No matter what you wear, not everyone is going to understand what you're saying.

I surround myself with women who inspire me to be more ambitious, and who constantly astonish me with their magnetism, style, and smarts.

I spend far too much time on eBay buying lamps and upholstery remnants.

I've subsequently become conscious of MAKING MEMORIES. Which makes me sound like a scrapbooker.

I am simply looking for a companion with whom to spend my days, a companion who will cherish as much as I the stupidity of living in the moment, and spend every dull, amazing second with me.

It's fascinating to imagine two successful writers in one house. But when you think about it, it isn't very unusual. In fact, so many writers have writer spouses.

A wise son maketh a glad father.

We all lose our looks eventually better develop your character and interest in life.

Accessories are key - nothing beats a cool Panama hat or statement shades - look to Maison Michel or Miu Miu for inspiration.

I'm going to live what I believe

I think the Internet was the saving grace for Public Enemy. Before that, travelling the world saved Public Enemy.

Whoso shrinks from ideas ends by having nothing but sensations.

I did a book in 1996, an overview of black history. In that process I became more aware of a lot of the black inventors of the 19th century.

I just work out hard enough that, if I'm craving something, I eat it and know I'm going to burn it off the next day with extra intensity

Anger is like a flame blazing up and consuming our self-control, making us think, say, and do things that we will probably regret later.

I appreciate a songwriter like Morrissey with so much restraint.