I’d rather be dead than singing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m 45.

When I’m 33, I quit.

The only performance that makes it, that makes it all the way is the one that achieves madness.

I once asked him why he smoked the world’s most expensive cigarette, and he told me it was because he was a man of wealth and taste, at least according to Mick Jagger.

The guy thought he was Mick Jagger. I felt bad for him.

She imagined herself whirling breathlessly beneath the flashing lights of some impossibly chic Manhattan disco. Suddenly, a hand touches her arm. She turns. ‘Pardon me,’ Mick Jagger says, ‘I believe this next dance is mine.