The more I look at most of the art movements, it's all occultism, when you get down to it. The Surrealists were openly talking about being magicians.

I think that in an increasingly virtual world, lovingly produced artefacts are at a premium.

Well, what do you expect? The Comedian is dead.

The superman exists and he's American.

Happiness is the most insidious prison of all.

It's cold and it's mean spirited and I don't like it here anymore.

The one thing with writing stories about the rise of fascism is that if you wait long enough, you'll almost certainly be proved right. Fascism is like a hydra - you can cut off its head in the Germany of the '30s and '40s, but it'll still turn up on your back doorstep in a slightly altered guise.