What we call chaos is just patterns we haven’t recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can't decipher.

Maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.

We've taken the world apart but we have no idea what to do with the pieces.

I don't do much more than organise other people's ideas and insights and thoughts, and sort of harvest them, and inventory them and present them.

You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways.

The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because it's only intangibles, ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die.

My life has been about living like a monk and looking like a priest so that people will come up to me and tell me their most appalling stories. They have to make their confession to somebody, and it might as well be me.