Madness is no madness when shared.

You judge a society by the decency of living of the weakest

Power, in a nutshell, is the ability to get things done, and politics is the ability to decide which things need to be done.

Unlike 'real relationships', 'virtual relationships' are easy to enter and to exit. They look smart and clean, feel easy to use, when compared with the heavy, slow-moving, messy real stuff.

Questioning the ostensibly unquestionable premises of our way of life is arguably the most urgent of services we owe our fellow humans and ourselves.

For one to be free there must be at least two.

You are a stranger, I am a stranger, we all remain strangers, and nevertheless we can like or even love each other.

The rationality of the ruled is always the weapon of the rulers.

We belong to talking, not what talking is about... Stop talking - and you are out. Silence equals exclusion.

The task for sociology is to come to the help of the individual. We have to be in service of freedom. It is something we have lost sight of.

The value of other people is that they have something unique to offer.

Charity must be voluntary.

New York is the great stone desert.

You know what, rip me off once, shame on me. But twice? I'm coming after you and taking back what's mine.

Suddenly I had a contract and I was earning lots of money.

My father probably - he had flashes of creativity - he used to do store windows for fruit stores that he worked in and stuff.

If we could ever find that moment, maybe thousands of years from now, where all the musics of the worlds would be communicating with each other, there would be no more wars, there would be peace.

My centre of who I thought I was was never very consciously about being beautiful or attractive - I think I'm one of those people who's actually grown into their looks.

My ancestors were Freethinkers - and that's what I am, except we're called secular humanists now.

Maybe we should take a clue from FTP and put in an option like 'print hash marks on every 1024 iterations'.

But beyond the bright searchlights of science, Out of sight of the windows of sense, Old riddles still bid us defiance, Old questions of Why and of Whence.