The sun was fierce, the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam.

He struggled with himself, too. I saw it -- I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.

They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others.

I let him run on, this papier-maché Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.

The mind of man is capable of anything.

In the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent.

I don't think a single one of them had any clear idea of time, as we at the end of countless ages have. They still belonged to the beginnings of time—

I remembered the old doctor, - "It would be interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot." I felt I was becoming scientifically interesting.

He was there below me, and, upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a featherhat, walking on his hind legs.

There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies - which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world - what I want to forget.

It was not my strength that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing.

All blood runs red.

The issue is complex, but like many matters in Sudan, it is not as complex as Khartoum would want the west to believe.

The best cure for the body is a quiet mind.

I coined this term 'freedom thru limitation' back in the '90s because I was sick of art being treated like pop, because of this boring 'anything can be art' theory.

I'm lucky to be in a profession where you can keep getting better.

I know of nothing to compare with the welcome a dog gives you when you come home.

The parts for women, you're either like the quietly suffering wife or the wild girl.

Writing for children is bloody difficult; books for children are as complex as their adult counterparts, and they should therefore be accorded the same respect.

We live in a country where power changes hands cyclically, because everybody in power screws up at some point, or the voters get fickle and just want a change.