I just want to make music, I don’t want people to talk about me. All I’ve ever wanted to do was sing. I don’t want to be a celebrity. I don’t want to be in people’s faces, you know, constantly on covers of magazine that I haven’t even known I’m on.
You had my heart inside of your hand but you played it to the beat.
I get so nervous on stage I can’t help but talk. I try. I try telling my brain: stop sending words to the mouth. But I get nervous and turn into my grandma. Behind the eyes it’s pure fear. I find it difficult to believe I’m going to be able to deliver.
My voice went recently, never happened before, off like a tap. I had to sit in silence for nine days, chalkboard around my neck. Like an old-school mime. Like a kid in the naughty corner. Like a Victorian mute.
I no longer buy papers or tabloids or magazines or read blogs. I used to. But it was just filling up my day with hatred.
Mum loves me being famous! She is so excited and proud, as she had me so young and couldn’t support me, so I am living her dream, it’s sweeter for both of us. It’s her 40th birthday soon and I’m going to buy her 40 presents.
I want to leave an album behind that is classic, that people in 50 years will refer to and pass on to their children. An album that you never bored of.
I don’t want to be on the cover of Playboy or Vogue.
I don’t care if you’re black, white, short, tall, skinny, rich or poor. If you respect me I’ll respect you.
My aim in life is never to be skinny.
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavement, even if it leads nowhere?
Nothing that I wouldn’t do, to make you feel my love.
Regrets and mistakes are memories made.
I love a card. You know, cards? At birthdays? I collect them.
I don’t want to be some skinny mini with my tits out. I really don’t want to do it and I don’t want people confusing what it is that I’m about.
In my hometown memories are fresh.
I mean, the thought of someone spending $20 to come and see me and saying ‘Oh, I prefer the record and she’s completely shattered the illusion’ really upsets me. It’s such a big deal that people come give me their time.
I know you haven’t made your mind up yet But I would never do you wrong I’ve known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong.
Sometimes my songs wander off a bit and are not always coherent.
Americans are always mortified when I tell them this, but in England, it’s a tradition to put your plaques and photographs and awards and gold records and stuff in your bathroom. I don’t know why.