“I can't repair my wall as fast as you can tear it down.”

“Bengt didn’t budge. “Talk to me, damn it.”“Let go!”“And where are you planning to go, Alex?”“Away!”“You can’t get away. You’re lugging your own prison around with you and patching up any holes from inside. Brilliant tactics, really! How does it feel?”“Safe!”

“Maybe it was possible to relinquish control. He could do this, with Bengt he could. Give himself up and fly. He closed his eyes, let himself be pulled in by the touch. Bengt's arms. Bengt's hands on his thighs, arms, chest. Lips and tongue on neck and shoulders, the need for more. 'Don't stop.”

“But there was nothing except this languid contentment of satisfied desire, as if the rules had changed or the world wasn't the same anymore.”

“It is much more comfortable to be mad and know it, than to be sane and have one's doubts.”

“No public man in these islands ever believes that the Bible means what it says: he is always convinced that it says what he means”

“You know what punk is? a bunch of no-talent guys who really, really want to be in a band. Nobody reads music, nobody plays the mandolin, and you're too dumb to write songs about mythology or Middle-earth. So what's your style? Three chords, cranked out fast and loud and distorted because your instruments are crap and you can't play them worth a damn. And you scream your lungs out to cover up the fact that you can't sing. It should suck, but here's the thing - it doesn't. Rock and roll can be so full of itself, but not this. It's simple and angry and raw.”