Every artist joins a conversation that's been going on for generations, even millennia, before he or she joins the scene.

Tis e'er the lot of the innocent in the world, to fly to the wolf for succor from the lion.

All men are loyal, but their objects of allegiance are at best approximate.

Yet everyone begins in the same place; how is it that most go along without difficulty but a few lose their way?

Is man a savage at heart, skinned o'er with fragile Manners? Or is savagery but a faint taint in the natural man's gentility, which erupts now and again like pimples on an angel's arse?

The horror of our history has purged me of opinions.

The Bible is not man's word about God, but God's word about man.