Malcolm Azania

“Nothing like hope to doom you.”

“How odd—disturbing, in fact—to hear someone address a god with such profane irreverence. But I suppose that the history of mythology is nothing if not proof that celestials are the instructors of man’s worst sins.”

“Good triumphs over evil when it’s better organized, better trained, better armed, sneakier, and gutsier than evil.”

“Good people get hurt—bad people get ahead, get rich, get your girl. Good doesn’t triumph over evil. So, do I believe in God?He doesn’t believe in me.”

“It is better not to know and to know that one does not know, than presumptuously to attribute some random meaning to symbols.”

“All organic. No chemicals here, no way. The red globe grapes, $8.99 a kilo. I take a pawful, pop em, one at a time. They crunch. This is my only wine. This is my Sunday sacrament...sweet and honest and decent. No lies from chemists, or from priests.You wanna heal your soul? Step one is healing your soil.”

“Sky’s so big and dazzling and buzzing and crackling and moaning with all that black silence, I feel like my skull is open to space, all that way-beyond soaking directly into my brain. Stars and stars and stars...some of em planets, some of em satellites. All of em out there, alone, untouchable.”

“They’re everything that’s wrong in this instant-coffee and microwave age. ‘I want it now.’ There used to be that romantic image of going off to Tibet and climbing the mountain to speak to the wise man. And when you got to the top, he could tell you the truths of the universe. Now people wanna take a helicopter to the top—or e-mail him!”

“People get accustomed to evil like they get accustomed to smog or noise or graffiti! But it doesn’t change what it is.”

“People are so lazy, they want everything to be simple, but nothing is simple. Nothing.”

“There’s only two types of people in the world, Ye, weird and boring.”

“I’m not saying Hamza’s cheap, but if the only thing standing between our solar system and a fleet of intergalactic enslavers was Hamza’s wallet crunched inside his fist, we’d all be drilling methane wells on Pluto right now.”

“Loopier than a snake in a garden hose.”

“We challenge ourselves to try at least four new bizarrities in every week’s groceries.”

““MAY THE FORCE—”“—FEED YOUR HORSE!””

“Thursday is practically Friday and Friday is Friday.”

“And I slept, and dreamt that I gazed through an electron microscope at the surface of the Guernica. I awoke to moonlight, and was troubled, and did not easily return to sleep.”

“You cannot look within, or rather, you refuse to. You fear to. So all of your manipulation of the exterior is ultimately meaningless, because it is devoid of any examined motivation. You seek to change your environment because you fear to gaze at that which makes you want to change it, because you fear that you may have to change yourself.”

“In science, one becomes so obsessed with the number of feathers in a bird’s wing or its mass or muscular strength that one forgets the fact of the bird’s flight, or its beauty, or its existence. One forgets the truth of those things. Similarly, the artist who looks only within, without looking to the minutiae of the bird or the air in which the bird flies or the earth below the air, forgets those apparently solid details that may also lead him to truth. If he never bothers to examine a bird’s mass and strength, then his painting or poem can speak only of his own narcissism.”

“Experience exists and therefore is true in its mere existence, but perhaps not beyond. It may not be truthful in reference to anything beyond itself. But it may, in unprocessed form, be representative of truth in that it has not become crusted over with the false encoding of theory. And in art, one may, perhaps, create a distillation of experience, which, by being less rigidly composed and dogmatically-formed than science, be flexible enough to represent or transmit truth, or at least, to point towards it.”