I’ve left Bethlehem, and I feel free. I’ve left the girl I was supposed to be, and some day I’ll be born.

I’m used to adversity and working really well in difficult situations. It was hard for me to accept the success.

The flower has opened, has been in the sun and is unafraid. I’m taking more chances; I’m bold and proud.

The older I get, the more I see that there really aren’t huge zeniths of happiness or a huge abyss of darkness as much as there used to be. I tend to walk a middle ground.

For me music is a vehicle to bring our pain to the surface, getting it back to that humble and tender spot where, with luck, it can lose its anger and become compassion again.

The monsters are in your own head.

I don’t like to sit and bask in my own awards. Awards represent artistic death to me.

When you’re a plebeian you want success, and when you’re successful you want to be a plebeian again.

I’ve left Bethlehem, and I feel free. I’ve left the girl I was supposed to be, and some day I’ll be born.

Just watching my cats can make me happy.

I’m glad I made a piece of art that can be interpreted so widely. Art is always interpreted subjectively.

I hope and believe we are paving a better future for female artists to come.

Feminists were psyched that I had armpit hair.

If not for music, I would probably be a very frustrated scientist. It’s one way to answer the question, ‘What is the meaning of life?’ I feel music answers it better.