“To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.”

Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.

The whisky bears a grudge against the decanter.

The day you die is just like any other, only shorter.

Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.

Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.

With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.

Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

People are bloody ignorant apes.

Better hope deferred than none.

All mankind is us, whether we like it or not.

Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.

Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

There’s never an end for the sea.

My mistakes are my life.

There’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.

Words are the clothes thoughts wear.

Artist are founders.

I am not from the Earth. I am from a place artist are obsessed with. A place where everything makes sense from the point of view of imagination, but not human intelligence.

One thing I learned as an artist – you gotta limit the amount of feedback you take in from fans Cuz you drive yourself crazy tryna please them just do you.

I think it’s important as an artist to never forget where you’re from.

I’m not an industry artist – I’m an artist in the industry.

All true artists, whether they know it or not, create from a place of no-mind, from inner stillness.

Every artist wants something different out the game.

A lot of artists that I’ve met let me know they’re huge fans of mine.