You want to feel that you can do something creative that you love without being picked apart and mutilated for other people's pleasure.

I'm not high maintenance.

It's hard sometimes to not want to know what people are saying behind your back and to ignore certain things that are being written.

Teenage girls like certain things I wear - or certainly did when that whole boho thing happened.

I feel very blessed. I have had, and am having, such a lovely life.

It's reached this point where people are fascinated by every intricate detail of other people's lives. And some people are willing to give up their lives like that.

I'm stupidly proud of myself.

It's really fun to be in a film that's pure entertainment, that people want to go and see. I think, in the current climate, the state of things, people want escapism.

I can't wait to be seen as a woman. But I know I probably have to contribute to that with behaviour.

I've realised that when I don't play people who are complex I get very, very bored, and then lazy, and end up being rubbish.

If each one of us does our bit, we will be helping to keep global warming from harming our countries.

Killing life in whatever way, will drag you along the hell's way.

All stories are true, Astrea. By speaking them aloud, we bring them to life. Once words mingle with breath and sound, they become something new and alive.

A man with nothing to lend should refrain from borrowing.

At a certain point talk about 'essence' and 'oneness' and the universal becomes more tautological than inquisitive.

I married an excellent parent, but I'm not sure that I've made a great parent.

Of writing many books there is no end.

How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this world all of its beauty? It felt the encouragement of Light against its being; otherwise we all remain too frightened.

Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.

Devil, do you dare approach me? and do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

This clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine,Surely such clay is more than half divine--'Tis only fools speak evil of the clay,The very stars are made of clay like mine.