John Grant

I love a lot of different styles, but my heart belongs in electronic music.

I love patchwork quilts. But not in music.

The rejection I received when I was young for being a homosexual... that's nothing compared to the number you do on yourself when you've been taught that you are not a human like other people.

I don't really listen to my old music.

I think I have a great voice, but it's not special enough to be remembered. But what's special about me is much more than just my voice.

I believe humans have a soul that continues to exist after they die, but I don't know what form that will take.

I don't really experience much embarrassment.

I love that phrase that parents say to their children when they cry: 'I'll give you something to cry about.'

I can't allow myself to censor myself.

I have trouble with things like Facebook. It presents such a warped vision. I get sick of people's opinions about every little thing and this warped view that everyone is as happy as a pig in garbage.

Part of what I do, after feeling invisible for a long time, is make an effort not to be invisible any more.

I still deal with triggers and neuroses that I've developed over the decades. But I do think I have a great amount of compassion for people who feel that they don't fit in, or people who feel they have trouble finding their place in this world.

It took me a long time to find my own voice, even after I started making my own music.

It really was an amazing thing when Midlake brought me down to Texas and created an atmosphere in which I felt really safe and was able to do whatever I wanted artistically.

I felt like a failure for so long because I wasn't able to access myself in the way I knew I would have if I was going to make music that mattered. I knew I was going to have to learn how to be honest.

I'm not saying that I don't have skills. I'm saying I don't feel like I can use my skills to achieve self-esteem. I feel like it's cheating. I think that I should have self-esteem simply because I am a human being who deserves love and deserves everything just as much or just as little as everyone else.

In my family, I was loved, but only if I would fight this gay thing and not let it take over me. I would be loved unconditionally if I could be cured of my 'sickness,' but it certainly would not be OK if I couldn't.

I would love to be part of a community.

I was so ashamed of who I was. And I also felt like an outcast in gay society as well because I wasn't good-looking enough; my body wasn't good enough.

I'm a seriously flawed individual, but I guess everybody is.