We're artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don't we?

You run risks. That's the plain truth. You run risks and, even in the most unlikely places, you are subject to destiny's whims.

You have to know how to look even if you don't know what you're looking for.

If I were to say what I really think I would be arrested or shut away in a lunatic asylum. Come on, I am sure that it would be the same for everyone.

The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

The pain, or the memory of pain, that here was literally sucked away by something nameless until only a void was left. The knowledge that this question was possible: pain that turns finally into emptiness. The knowledge that the same equation applied to everything, more or less.

I'm an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.