“A screaming comes across the sky.”

Time is never wasted if you remember to bring along something to read.

Why should things be easy to understand?

What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil once in a while, it makes no more or less sense.

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

Our history is an aggregate of last moments.

You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.

All variables are independent.

A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.

All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.

The general public has long been divided into two parts; those who think that science can do anything and those who are afraid it will.

Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.

If there is something comforting – religious, if you want – about paranoia, there is still also anti-paranoia, where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long.

Teamwork,” Koteks snarled, “is one word for it, yeah. What it really is is a way to avoid responsibility. It’s a symptom of the gutlessness of the whole society.

It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.

There is no real direction here, neither lines of power nor cooperation. Decisions are never really made – at best they manage to emerge, from a chaos of peeves, whims, hallucinations and all around assholery.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world’s intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there’s cataclysm.

I’m only… I’m only unhappy when the reviews are bad, but give me a good review and I’m a… I’m just screaming all over the place with joy.

And the earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming.

Silence is the most powerful scream.

My mom would leave her job, and there would be throngs of people screaming and banging on our car. I come from a very private family, but I was born into a public family.

Echo of a Scream (1937).’ I got spun out by the way he creates tension and movement through the interlocking details in the painting.

Half the time I feel like I’m talking to the wall because you don’t react at all and then the shock comes when I begin to scream that I just want somebody to listen to me.

I sense a scream passing through nature. I painted the clouds as actual blood. The colour shrieked.

I was walking along the road with two friends. The sun set. I felt a tinge of melancholy. Suddenly the sky became a bloody red. I stood there, trembling with fright. And I felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature.