I can wrap my legs around my neck.

I wish I'd gotten sober at a younger age.

I've been the queen of dysfunction and made every mistake one can make.

Self-help books are for the birds. Self-help groups are where it's at.

Mothers don't let your daughters grow up to be models unless you're present.

I was hot and I knew it and it went to my head.

In my day, I, being the first supermodel, I hawked everything.

Celebrity is hawking make-up, cars, everything; it's shifted.

I had to fight like hell to convince people I was beautiful in my own Polish half-breed way.

Without gay men, I am nothing.

And I will never, ever respond to anybody - man, woman, vegetable, or mineral - who tells me to keep my mouth shut.

I got a book deal without even turning in one shred of a writing sample.

I don't know why in society when a woman demands perfection she is called crazy.

People identify with me - everyone does - African American women, Caucasian women, they all identify with me because I'm ethnic.

But you see, that's the gilded prison of fashion. We're riding in private jets, and meantime I was so incredibly, painfully sad and lonely.

I have been shaped by my mistakes and disappointments - just as I have been shaped by my successes.

I find the light and work it, work it, work it.

Photo shoots for underage girls are like letting an ant walk around with honey.

Phil Spector is probably a better date than Roman Polanski.

The industry has died as far as modeling has gone, and I'll tell you why. Magazines are featuring the Halle Berrys and Sarah Jessica Parkers, all the actresses. Makeup companies are featuring all the celebrities. All the models have died.