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Quote by Jonathan Culver

“Artists are agents of chaos. It is the artists job to encourage entropy, to promote chaos. Idols must be killed, icons crushed, beliefs shattered. It is the artists job to encourage legitimate, unadulterated, raw thought and emotion. Art that does nothing new, that simply fills an established role, is not art. It is a product. A stale, stagnant product of a disgustingly mundane process that has been done so much it is assumed mandatory. Little different than feces. The last thing the world needs is to get shittier.”

Quote by Jonathan Culver

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Jonathan Culver

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“Niet zo lang geleden dacht hij (en Vlieghe en Dondeyne geloofden het ook) dat moeders pijn in hun buik kregen, de weeën, en dan snel naar de wc waggelden, hurkten, kakten, dat de drol meteen door buurvrouwen uit het water werd gehaald vóór hij kon smelten, en op het zeil van de keukentafel werd gelegd, waar hij door teder tegen elkaar koutende ouders tot een kind werd geboetseerd, waarop, door intens gebed opgeroepen, vanuit het raam of de schoorsteen een wind begon te waaien die neerstreek over de bruine klei, de adem van God die leven blies in de stront die kleuren kreeg en als van rubber begon te plooien en zich uit te rekken, en dan brulde naar zijn Mama om de eerste papfles.”

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Book:Het verdriet van België
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“God, I’m tired.” “So sleep.” Gansey gave him a look. It was a look that asked how Ronan, of all people, could be so stupid to think that sleep was just a thing that could be so easily acquired. Ronan said, “So let’s drive to the Barns.” Gansey gave him another look. It was a look that asked how Ronan, of all people, could be so stupid as to think that Gansey would agree to something so illegal on so little sleep. Ronan said, “So let’s go get some orange juice.” Gansey considered. He looked to where his keys sat on the desk beside his mint plant. The clock beside it, a repellently ugly vintage number Gansey had found lying by a bin at the dump, said 3:32. Gansey said, “Okay.” They went and got some orange juice.”

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Book:The Dream Thieves
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“I don't hate you. I love you." "I love you, too. God, it's hell!" They decided to be more sensible. The next day they didn't meet in Widener. Elgin stayed in his room, and at three o'clock the phone rang. "It's me--Caroline." "Oh God, you called. I was praying you would. Where are you?" "In the drugstore on the corner." There was silence. "Elgin," she said at last, "did you have any orange juice today?" He ran, down the stairs, along the sidewalk, to the drugstore to have his orange juice.”

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Book:First Love and Other Sorrows: Stories
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“Why was Simpson called "OJ" except in some kind of branding or headlinese that said, "Look, this guy is sweet, wholseome, and nourishing (and 'Orenthal' is just too fancy)? You can have him for breakfast." (And "Sweetness" and "Sweet" are nicknames often given to black men.) Is "OJ" that far away from Jell-O? Wasn't that extended advertising campaign a way of saying you can trust our pudding because Bill Cosby likes it—sweet, wholesome, and pretty?”

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Book:Television: A Biography
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