“I avoid contemporary TV...politics...art: all too frantic, fevered, and frivolous, or else angry, bitter.”

“You can never talk religion on network TV. It makes too many people angry. You can talk about sex.”

“Contemporary art hates you.”

“Thou art a dreaming thing,A fever of thyself.”

“My love is as a fever, longing stillFor that which longer nurseth the disease;Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,The uncertain sickly appetite to please.My reason, the physician to my love,Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,Desire his death, which physic did except.Past cure I am, now reason is past care,And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,At random from the truth vainly express'd;For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”

“I’m angry as hell. I’m angry for all the people who should be angry but aren’t, either because they’re too stupid or too timid.”