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

When the persecution of an individual who has exposed an evil is pursued so ruthlessly and yet the evil itself is studiedly ignored, all of us know that there is something very wrong with the way that our society is conducting itself. And if we do not protest in the strongest terms about what is being done in our name, then we become complicit.

Consciousness, unprovable by scientific standards, is forever, then, the impossible phantom in the predictable biologic machine, and your every thought a genuine supernatural event. Your every thought is a ghost, dancing.

I don't think any of us grew up into the world we were hoping for or expecting.

In the human mind, the number of possible connections that can be made between neurons greatly exceeds the number of atoms in the universe.

I really can't be bothered going to a barber. And shaving every morning, that's nightmarish. I spent my teenage years covered in tiny little bits of toilet paper.

There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof.