I wanted to write a balls-to-the-wall supernatural horror story, something I haven't done in a long time.

Did-a-chick? Dum-a-chum? Dad-a-cham? Ded-a-chek?

It means that no blue ribbon is forever. Someday - if the world doesn't explode itself in the meantime - someone will run a two-minute mile in the Olympics. It may take a hundred years or a thousand, but it will happen. Because there is no ultimate blue ribbon. There is zero, and there is eternity, and there is mortality, but there is no ultimate.

If you can't laugh when things go bad--laugh and put on a little carnival--then you're either dead or wishing you were.

Things come in three major degrees in the human experience, I think. There's good, bad, and terrible. And as you go down into progressive darkness towards terrible, it gets harder and harder to make subdivisions.

A lot of authority figures want to be good. I sense that, and yet at the same time I sense that authority, after a while, always leads to some kind of oppression. When the minority report comes in, what you do is run the minority out of town with a flaming cross. It's just the way things are.

It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.