There is no future. There is no past. Do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof.

I suppose that the main drive is to find the edge of something and then throw myself over it.

I've had years of bizarre hallucinogenic magical experiences in which I believed I had communicated with entities that may well have been disassociated parts of my own personality or conceivably some independent entity of a metaphysical nature. Both would seem equally interesting.

Janey accuses me of chasing jailbait. She bursts into angry tears, asking if it's because she's getting older. It's true. She's aging more noticeably every day — while I am standing still. I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth. These people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

If light is outlawed, then only outlaws will be able to see where they're going.

While a truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power.