Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.

I feel that I am doing the minimum amount of damage to other possibilities that may take place in a reader's head.

Vice is nice, but a little virtue won't hurt you.

I thought I'd be a librarian until I met some crazy ones.

What is, is, and what might have been could never have existed.

I am a person before I am anything else. I never say I am a writer. I never say I am an artist...I am a person who does those things.

If something doesn't creep into a drawing that you're not prepared for, you might as well not have drawn it.