--Why are we fighting them? --They're mad. We're sane. --How do we know? --That we're sane? --Yes. --Am I sane? --To all appearances. --And you, do you consider yourself sane? --I do. --Well, there you have it. --But don't they also consider themselves sane? --I think they know. Deep down. That they're not sane. --How must that make them feel? --Terrible, I should think. They must fight ever more fiercely, in order to deny what they know to be true. That they are not sane.

Art is not difficult because it wishes to be difficult, but because it wishes to be art.

Is death that which gives meaning to life? And I said, no, life is that which gives meaning to life.

Endings are elusive, middles are nowhere to be found, but worst of all is to begin, to begin, to begin.

See the moon? It hates us.

Yes, success is everything. Failure is more common. Most achieve a sort of middling thing, but fortunately one's situation is always blurred, you never know absolutely quite where you are.

The death of God left the angels in a strange position.