America is ripe for lies and lethargy. The pure mountain air is going and gone. It is a huge burden and a sadness for us all.

Whores get bow-legged and bankers get mean, which is strange when you think that if whores get bow-legged, bankers should get generous, but they never do.

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.

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

I have even written a book about Wine called The Grapes of Ralph.

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.

Evil is always devising more corrosive misery through man's restless need to exact revenge out of his hate.