Digital clocks took the 'space' out of time.

Brilliant people never think of the lives they smash, being brilliant.

A Catholic is raised with the idea that he will die any minute now and if he doesn't live his life in a certain way, this death is an introduction to an eternity of pain.

There's a moral force in a sentence when it comes out right. It speaks the writer's will to live.

Explain me to myself, you’ll make me choke on my lunch. Feel sympathy for me, I’ll puke monkey blood on your understated shoes.

There were moments when she wasn't talking so much as fading into time, dropping back into some funnelled stretch of recent past.

I long for the days of disorder. I want them back, the days when I was alive on the earth, rippling in the quick of my skin, heedless and real. I was dumb-muscled and angry and real. This is what I long for, the breach of peace, the days of disarray when I walked real streets and did things slap-bang and felt angry and ready all the time, a danger to others and a distant mystery to myself.