“It is so wearisome having to represent things. That is why I refuse to look at abstract art. It is much too suggestive of the style of my thoughts, and I never think about my thoughts.”

“I lacked the knowledge of linear perspective needed to get into the art school, so now I whitewash walls and imagine I’m heaven’s landscape painter.”

“I just wanted the rain to come so I could help grow something. But I became a part of so much more” – a grain of dirt after a mudslide.”

“I love working with my hands. My writing is rough, my paper bruised with ink stains.”

“I compensate for my debauchery by being brilliant at it. I make sacrifices for it by waking up in a gutter covered in the fruits of my genius.”

“What’s outside my head and what’s inside my head aren’t worth mentioning. What’s worth mentioning is what’s on my head – my hair. Whatever happens, I’ll still be as fashionably coiffed as I was before the war broke out and I got dementia.”

“The lampshade on my head is for my bright ideas. I won't be able to convey them until Monday, when my curtain gets out of the dry cleaners.”