I would like to have read all the novels of Charles Dickens. My dad always said he was the best novelist in the English language, and I think I should work out if he was right or not. He usually was right about those things.

This is so heavy. If I’m never going to see my kids and husband again, it’s to let them know how giantly, massively and crazily I love them. Every ounce of me loves them so deeply, it makes me cry.

I move from my bed in my bedroom, to my sofa here in the living room, and basically I stay here and I'm fed delectables all day and that's about it.

The only thing left to achieve would be to just enjoy the fact that the ride was amazing, and probably say as many ‘I love you’s as I could. It would be a day of reflection for sure. But I wouldn’t want for more because I’ve had more than I could have ever imagined in the first place.

To the Scissor Sisters. Back in the day, I could be an absolute monster; I was a real asshole.

The realisation that I am no longer young.

Getting older and dying.

Five years ago, a concrete plug, a little bigger than a baseball, fell off a building on Hollywood Boulevard when I was riding in an open convertible. It shattered the windshield. It really shook me. I still have it on my mantel.

A Henry Darger painting. Sadly, I lost it in the divorce, but it was a great parting gift.