Hatred is the air I breathe. It permeates every cell in my body.

My crazy parents and those crazy Catholic nuns didn't do a good job of forcing me to keep the Ten Commandments, but they kept me forever fixated on the very idea of a taboo.

The average human's fundamental project is to find someone else to blame for their problems.

When I write, I strain with every wizened fibre of my weathered frame to analyze every possible angle of any given subject.

I don't think fatherhood's changed me so much as it's conjured protective instincts I've had all along.

As I view it, spending over two years in a cage is far worse than having your face pounded and dealing with a black eye for a week or two.

My hatred is diamond-hard.