I believe he's a man of great integrity, but he seems to see the world in very black and white. Manichean terms. I personally believe that to be an intellectual limitation.

All culture must have arisen from cult.

I think that in an increasingly virtual world, lovingly produced artefacts are at a premium.

Since mankind's dawn, a handful of oppressors have accepted the responsibility over our lives that we should have accepted for ourselves. By doing so, they took our power. By doing nothing, we gave it away. We've seen where their way leads, through camps and wars, towards the slaughterhouse.

London has been used as the emblematic English city, but it's far from representative of what life in England is actually about.

If you're functional, it doesn't matter if you're mad.

The past can't hurt you anymore, not unless you let it.

But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

The world's a stage, and everything else is Vaudeville.

The more I look at most of the art movements, it's all occultism, when you get down to it. The Surrealists were openly talking about being magicians.

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

There are two worlds we live in: a material world, bound by the laws of physics, and the world inside our mind, which is just as important.

What does fighting crime mean, exactly? Does it mean upholding the law when a woman shoplifts to feed her children, or does it mean struggling to uncover the ones who, quite legally, have brought about her poverty?

Equality and freedom are not luxuries to lightly cast aside. Without them, order cannot long endure before approaching depths beyond imagining.

I think that we need mythology. We need a bedrock of story and legend in order to live our lives coherently.

Magic and art tend to share a lot of the same language. They both talk about evocation, invocation, and conjuring.

The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin.

Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.

It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years I had roses, and apologized to no one.

Does the human heart know chasms so abysmal?