It makes me so desperately sad to witness just how unforgivably wretched our world has become.

Americans live with the certain knowledge that the source of their greatness has not yet been released.

Call immediately. Time is running out. We both need to do something monstrous before we die.

I am an artist and have no right buggering about with verbs and split infinitives, which is what being a writer says to me.

At first, I thought 'this series is going to be all about death and desecration,' but instead became a more complex landscape of human relationships. I hope I put something of these feelings into the portraits that I made of the characters, which were landscapes in themselves. An irony in the subject of crystal meth is how beautifully it resembles the desert sky.

I once saw a lump of Greenland breaking off into the sea and moving south, which of course will affect the atmosphere and us generally, and it'll happen more and more.

The betrayal of people's good will, good trust that things are being done for the best and they actually ARE being done for the best.