Had your forefathers, Wigglesworth, been as stupid as you are, the human race would never have succeeded in procreating itself.

We started off trying to set up a small anarchist community, but people wouldn't obey the rules.

Those who have known the famous are publicly debriefed of their memories, knowing as their own dusk falls that they will only be remembered for remembering someone else.

No mention of God. They keep Him up their sleeves for as long as they can, vicars do. They know it puts people off.

It's subjunctive history. You know, the subjunctive? The mood used when something may or may not have happened. When it is imagined.

I don't talk very well. With writing, you've time to get it right. Also I've found the more I talk the less I write, and if I didn't write no one would want me to talk anyway.

I was an only child. I lost both my parents. By the time I was twenty I was bald. I'm homosexual. In the way of circumstances and background to transcend I had everything an artist could possibly want. It was practically a blueprint.