Brian’s Reviews > Black Bag > Status Update

To trust in the arts is an act of hubris so self-destructive the gods don’t even bother to punish you for it. It is to become a monstrous politician of an insecure republic, an estate agent of your own soul, a demon of lubricity.

There is just a chance, though, the width of a crack in a martini glass, that we need it more than ever.

You never know what to expect of someone’s home, a sight more intimate than the naked body as it includes our every thought and necessity made visible. Most of our instincts derive from trying, preemptively, to avoid disappointment.

Say what you like about the death of community values; at least there’s nothing to be "cast out of" anymore.

Listen, I say, I don’t know if you’ve paid much attention to the last couple of decades but a life of quiet desperation is an impossible dream for my generation.

the good analyst knows you are always lying, from the moment you enter their softly lit room, from the first to the last session, lying, so that they can only read the shapes left between the lies.