We all know people who are ridiculously famous, and it's a scary thing because all of the sudden people - even the people you are close to - stop being honest with you, stop telling you the truth.

I very much adore people who are outcasts, and I've always loved to be around interesting, circus-type people.

I just love vintage. I have far too many vintage dresses.

At school I got harassed so badly for being too tall, too thin, too pale - too everything that has gotten me where I am now, which is quite ironic.

Obviously there are going to be a lot of skeptics. I only hope I can prove them wrong and give the idea of model-slash-anything a genuine chance.

I've not met one person, even if they are not creative, who isn't dysfunctional. I guess artists are just a bit more aware of their dysfunction because it serves a purpose.

I'm surrounded by freaks. Am I weirder than the rest of them? Ultimately I've learned to pride myself on being quirky.

I like feeling a bit of an outcast where I am. I've always been that way. Somehow, I fit in by not fitting in.

There comes a point where certain things are becoming my Achilles heel; you know when you start repeating yourself and saying the same anecdotes over and over again you start slowly hating yourself.

I really don't like conference calls to be honest. It's always something that bloody happens with a conference call - universally never works out.

I'm dedicating my time to going on tour and basically juggling music, modeling, and being a mother. Being a mother is obviously the most important.

Love is almost never simple.

The earliest you can play Christmas music is on Thanksgiving.

Find a job you like and you add five days to every week.

My father taught me not to overthink things, that nothing will ever be perfect, so just keep moving and do your best.

Overnight business could go down enough to hurt; yet as a rule it slowly recovered-sometimes it seemed to take forever-went up, not high enough to be really up, only not down.

People are usually afraid to say what's on their mind.

Like as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate

Any time that you think you've hit the top of the mountain, the truth of the matter is you've just reached another mountain. And it's there to climb all over again.

People want to tear me down, they were going to knife me anyway.

Indecision is the seedling of fear.