I want to die young. I think it’s awful to get old, and sickness is ugly...

I’m the only one who still believes in Santa Claus!

I don’t want to die an old lady.

I’m sure that I’ve already been dead.

I can die now. I’ve lived twice.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus. Don’t you find it a bit strange that, since He was living with His family and all, He up and left them just when they needed him most?

I wouldn’t mind at all coming back to earth after my death.

I’d like to see one person – just one – who would own up to having been a coward.

Americans want beauties, not me. I’m not the Parisian bombshell they expected. Can you see me as a chorus girl? Where’s my feather up the ass? They think I’m sad, they’re dumb. I don’t connect to them.

I’ve always wanted to sing, just as I’ve always known that one day I would have my own niche in the annals of song. It was a feeling I had.