World needs more angels, even plywood ones.

Next time, can you ask him to bring cookies? I don’t like to put up with that level of insane unless there’s some kind of high-calorie compensation.

Fashion is only different skins for different flavours of you.

(…) everything is finite. Life. Love. All this.’ (…) ‘Sadness too. Although that’s harder to let go of than happiness.

They burned this neighbourhood down in the early 1900s to prevent the spread of bubonic plague, and it occurs to me that they should consider doing it again, to purge the blight of well-meaning hipsters...

She’s even been practicing making out with the back of her hand. Which was about as effective as tickling yourself. It’s why you needed other fingers, other tongues. Only other people can make you feel...

So are you an inmate or a rubbernecker?” she asks.”Rubbernecker,” I answer without hesitation. “You?””I’m a screw. Or on staff, anyway. Used to be an inmate. Repeat offender. Crimes against my body. Puking sickness followed...

I’m scared, Mom.” … “It’s okay, honey. It’s all right. That’s the big secret, don’t you know? Everyone is. All the time.

The original stories are mined out, and all that’s left is fool’s gold.

There are patterns because we try to find them. A desperate attempt at order because we can’t face the terror that it might all be random.

Dope don’t have no sympathy, not for love or family, definitely not for fear. Put dope and the devil up against each other in the ring, and dope will win out. Every single time.

Florrie smiles with unmoderated joy, because she can’t see that most people bank their happiness like it’s something you might run out of

He always thought a muse should be sex on legs.

I smile thinly, to make it clear that this will happen when hell turns into a family friendly summer resort.

People don’t want novelty – they want the reassurance of familiarity. No-one wants to be challenged, no-one wants to have their minds blown. There is an insatiable appetite for affirmation.

Traffic in Joburg is like the democratic process. Every time you think it’s going to get moving and take you somewhere, you hit another jam.

Explosions and fighting robots and shit. What’s that got to do with the heart?

Everyone is broken.

Only other people can make you feel real.

You have to get up pretty early in the morning to invent the news.

It’s why you need other fingers, other tongues. Only other people can make you feel real.

Memory is curated. All this paraphernalia you collect to ward off forgetting

The dream knows what they are waiting for, even if they don’t themselves.The end of everything.The moment when it reveals its miracle boy and all the eyes will look and their seeing will be horror...