I Find Words Really Hard.

I Suppose I Do Get Sad, But Not For Too Long. I Just Look In The Mirror And Go, 'what A F***ing Good-looking F*** You Are.' And Then I Brighten Up.

I Was Brought Up Catholic. Then I Had A Joint And Looked At The World Differently.

I Don't Know What Any Of My Tunes Are About, They're Just Out There. I'm Not Good With Words. I Just Say The First Thing That Comes Into My Head

I Will Always Be An Oasis.

I'll Never Have A Stylist.