I'm a complete human being. I'm very emotional and loving. I feel, I hurt, I give, I take, and also I think. I analyze. I'm a sociologist, anthropologist.
I'm a former bulimic myself and it's a horrible, horrible addiction.
I have to wake up and drink chamomile tea to slow down.
I was lusted after walking down the streets of New York.
Follow sound business trends, not fashion trends.
Without gay men, I am nothing.
As the saying goes, I want to be the best-looking corpse there is.
That's why you need the war on drugs to put all these pot smokers in prison so that the prisons remain full and the corporations remain profitable. It's a slippery slope.
I quite enjoy cooking but I'm not consistent. I can't follow the recipe book. If something goes well, I'll never make it again, which is completely stupid. It's a one-shot kind of deal.
There was nothing particularly intimate about the way they sat, but something about the scene made Gansey feel strange, like he’d heard an unpleasant statement and later forgotten everything about the words but the way they had made him feel.
I cannot stand public attention, I just can't. Of course, if I may I might write something instead