One is either judge or accused. The judge sits, the accused stands. Live on your feet.

The smell of opium is the least stupid smell in the world.

People seek escape in myth by any means at their disposal, including drugs, alcohol, meditation, and lies.

The only way to kill death is through photography.

The world owes its enchantment to these curious creatures and their fancies; but its multiple complicity rejects them. Thistledown spirits, tragic, heartrending in their evanescence, they must go blowing headlong to perdition.

The preservation of friendship is seen as opportunism. You are required to be in one camp or the other. You are enjoined to cut your heartstrings if they extend across the barricade.

The audience bursts into laughter. With the tragic gag I don't expect the audience to laugh (if they do, I have failed) but I expect a black silence from them that is almost as violent: as laughter.