Major success feels a bit like a coronation. Like I'd become a king. I was one of the most famous people in the world, loved and hated in equal measure. I couldn't see anything bad with it. It made me a happy person.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Success was always critical to me. What it meant was winning enough praise and external admiration that I could feel myself to be a logical extension of my Uncle Alex, Uncle Zoli, and my father, in that order.
Success to me is being able to do what I love, make a living at it and to support myself and the ones I love.
When I was growing up, I thought I'd be a lot happier if I was famous and successful and if I had money.
I realized some of the pitfalls of being well-known; it was nice if you were successful, but it made it just that much harder to take when you failed.
While I was always successful... I never thought I'd be one in the world.
The definition of success to me is not necessarily a price tag, not fame, but having a good life, and being able to say I did the right thing at the end of the day.
I think success right now is not about how famous you are or how much you're getting paid, but it's more about if you're steadily working and you're happy with what you're doing.
Success is a completely abstract thing - it has no bearing on daily life, family matters, the matter of artistic creation, but it can affect grace, and if I lose that, I really have gained nothing from success.
Success was one of my weakest points. I was so ill-prepared for it. I never appreciated within myself the gift of success. I never accepted it. People gave me so much momentum and love, and people really got my music, but I didn't accept it. That's probably one of my biggest regrets.
I'm astonished by my success. I wrote because I needed to and wanted to. It never occurred to me that I'd become famous.