I think that technologies are morally neutral until we apply them. It's only when we use them for good or for evil that they become good or evil.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.

Generation X is dead. It has come to mean anyone aged 13 to 55 years old.

I took Punk to be the detonation of some slow-fused projectile buried deep in society's flank a decade earlier, and I took it to be, somehow, a sign.

The future has already arrived. It's just not evenly distributed yet.

When you want to know how things really work, study them when they're coming apart.

Language is to the mind more than light is to the eye.

People who feel safer with a gun than with guaranteed medical insurance don't yet have a fully adult concept of scary.

We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of forgetting.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead station.

Don't be distracted by the noise going on. Pause & reflect. You'll realize how much time you've wasted on all that nonsense around you.

And yet, protest it if we will, Some corner of the mind retainsThe medieval man, who stillKeeps watch upon those starry skeinsAnd drives us out of doors at nightTo gaze at anagrams of light.

Stop trying to explore what is different about yourselves and explore the commonality you have instead.

We only have to dance to the rhythm of life.

Stop saying these negative things about yourself. Look in the mirror and find something about yourself that's positive and celebrate that!

She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.

It's more my own thing if I do instrumentals, but I also do really love collaborating with vocalists, so it's a good balance.

Nobody beats a bunch of journalists for inflating their rather mundane straightforward chores with a lot more melodrama and self-importance than the job should be asked to contain.

Some are able and humane men and some are low-grade individuals with the morals of a goat, the artistic integrity of a slot machine, and the manners of a floorwalker with delusions of grandeur.

I come from the home-grown punk ethic, where it doesn't matter if you can't play a note, it's how you communicate.