Unless I am both capable of and willing to reopen the wound every time I write a song, if I choose to not look inside myself to write music, I'm really not worth being called an artist at all.

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Explore More Quotes by Lady Gaga

We are not actually equal - humanity - if we are not allowed to freely love one another.

We are not actually equal - humanity - if we are not allowed to freely love one another.

I'm doing everything that I can working with experts really studying the statistics to figure out a

I'm doing everything that I can, working with experts, really studying the statistics to figure out a way we can make it cool or normal to be kind and loving.

I am so excited to extend myself behind the scenes as a designer and to - as my father puts it - fi

I am so excited to extend myself behind the scenes as a designer and to - as my father puts it - finally have a real job.

When I wake up in the morning I feel just like any other insecure 24-year-old girl.

When I wake up in the morning I feel just like any other insecure 24-year-old girl.

Related Quotes to Explore

    For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.

    For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.

    When you are missing someone, time seems to move slower, and when I’m falling in love with someone, time seems to be moving faster.

    When you are missing someone, time seems to move slower, and when I’m falling in love with someone, time seems to be moving faster.

    Jazz is not dead, it just smells funny.

    Jazz is not dead, it just smells funny.

    Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to

    Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

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