Normality is the Great Neurosis of civilization.

Cries for help are frequently inaudible.

My paintings are very strange - large and empty, like walls. Just the opposite of my writing, which is rich and juicy.

In times of widespread chaos and confusion, it has been the duty of more advanced human beings--artists, scientists, clowns and philosophers--to create order. In times such as ours, however, when there is too much order, too much management, too much programming and control, it becomes the duty of superior men and women to fling their favorite monkey wrenches into the machinery. To relive the repression of the human spirit, they must sow doubt and disruption.

What is politics, after all, but the compulsion to preside over property and make other peoples' decisions for them?

I like to think of myself as a fiction writer who liked art enough to write about it for a while, and then went on to his fiction.

The world is a wonderfully weird place, consensual reality is significantly flawed, no institution can be trusted, certainty is a mirage, security a delusion, and the tyranny of the dull mind forever threatens -- but our lives are not as limited as we think they are, all things are possible, laughter is holier than piety, freedom is sweeter than fame, and in the end it's love and love alone that really matters.