Who makes the world? Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. Perhaps it simply is, has been, will always be there…a clock without a craftsman.

Does the human heart know chasms so abysmal?

I don't like to go to conventions, and I don't like to relate to people on a level of hero worship, because there's no real communication going on there.

I'm a very smug show-off at heart. I'm altogether too pleased with myself. The big boost for me is to be able to turn out something that I think is pretty marvelous, like 'Lost Girls.' I'm not in it for money, I'm just in it for the glory.

Through my blue fingers, pink grains are falling, haphazard, random, a disorganized stream of silicone that seems pregnant with the possibility of every conceivable shape… But this is illusion. Things have their shape in time, not space alone. Some marble blocks have statues within them, embedded in their future.

I don't really think that very much is interesting about the superhero as an archetype.

They say we have we created the man to end all wars; I say we have created a man to end all worlds.