Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.

We're all puppets, Laurie. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings.

I think I'm a bit like a kind of shark, that if I stop swimming, I won't be able to breathe, something like that.

There is an inverse relationship between imagination and money.

American love — like coke in green glass bottles...they don't make it anymore.

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter... Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold... that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle.