“Racing cars which have been converted for road use never really work. It's like making a hard core adult film, and then editing it so that it can be shown in British hotels. You'd just end up with a sort of half hour close up of some bloke's sweaty face.”

“it could all be so simple, but you'd rather make it hard, lovin you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars, tell me who i have to be, to get some reciprocity..”

“Do you guys ever feel like you're locked inside a car that's moving really fast?"What kinda car?" Chris asks. Like a fucking red Monte Carlo with a black racing stripe cutting through the middle of it, and there's some superintense Fantomas shit jolting from the car speakers, like Mike Patton and Buzz Osbourne just completely losing it, but no steering wheel. The car doesn't have one. And the car is so out of control, right? It's swerving all over the road, and you're crying, pounding your fists against the window trying to jump out of it, trying to bail from it, and then all of these people start popping up on the road, like your parents and your sister and your friends, and the car is playing human dodgeball with them. It's trying to not run anyone over, but it's not slowing down, either, and then some junkie babe pops up in the middle of the road and the car destroys her, leaving her mangled body in its burnt rubber path, and then it keeps on going and going even though it can't maintain anything close to the same speed.”

“it could all be so simple, but you'd rather make it hard, loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars,”

“I like racing but food and pictures are more thrilling. I can't give them up. In racing you can be certain, to the last thousandth of a second, that someone is the best, but with a film or a recipe, there is no way of knowing how all the ingredients will work out in the end. The best can turn out to be awful and the worst can be fantastic. Cooking is like performing and performing like cooking.”

“I force a smile and hold up my hand, which must end up looking like some sort of strange, leery wince, like I've just swallowed a glass of somebody's urine and I'm recommending it.”