Sober alkies are often asked: When did you hit rock bottom? but a more informed question might be: How many times did you hit rock bottom?
That’s why I believe in a Constitution which separates church from state. I’ve seen what happens when they get in cahoots.
I’ve started looking at my own father a bit funny. He assures me, though, that I really am the son of a Scottish postman.
I’ve got young kids, so it suits me to do a job which keeps me in town right now.
I think I’m just someone that just tries to get by. I’m kind of – if it was during the Second World War, I’d be a black marketeer, I think.
I hope what I do has an art to it, and as an artist you have to try new things and keep yourself entertained.
I have to do a show which is of interest to me, or else I’m lost.
I have no ambitions beyond being comfortable in what I do for a living – and earning a living.
It is a great day for the great state of Texas. The last person being tested for Ebola has come back clean. So Texas is now Ebola free. This was a big week for them. They’re now free of Ebola – and Democrats.
The clocks understood, they kept moving, motion, following the truth that change is the nature of God’s mind, and resistance to it is the source of great pain.
I don’t know why I was so afraid of failure; the most interesting people I know have failed more than they have succeeded. This may be because life is not as simple as it appears to a desperately ambitious young man, or it could be that all my friends are losers.
Only tyrants and fools made martyrs. He was certainly no fool. And he was no tyrant either- how could he be, he had suffered a hideous stroke. He was a victim. The victim excuse, where evil is born.
I sometimes wonder if fear isn’t just God’s way of saying, ‘Pay attention, this could be fun.
I was struck by the ancient, pagan feel of the place. New Orleans doesn’t feel like any other American city I’ve been to. It has an atmosphere like Rome or Istanbul, a sense of the veil being very thin between this world and the world of the fictional and the dead. It is an eerie, haunted, and beautiful place – as any port should be.
I’ll try anything a hundred times just to make sure I don’t like it.
Like many people who come to New York to live and then have to leave before they really want to, I spent the next three or four years with the vague feeling that there was a great party going on somewhere and I was not at it.
One of the interesting quirks of the aging process is that events that seem to have little or no impact at the time resonate with a thunderous importance later on, like an expertly constructed detective novel.
It must be depressing to have your sole purpose in the universe be pointing out other people’s mistakes. Am I right, Internet trolls, gossip columnists, and clergymen?
I always suspected the perpetrators of both good and evil probably would have behaved the same way, God or no God.
My own belief is that two adults are allowed to love who they want, and if you don’t agree with that, you are a narrow-minded shitfuck and we can’t be friends.
I don’t want my sons to be traumatized by what happened to their father or grandfathers or great-grandfathers, but everyone should know about the lives of those who came before them so that they can figure out why their fingers are bent or why sometimes they feel bone-crushingly sad for no reason that anyone else can see.