Most pop is escapism; this is sanctuary.

He revitalized comics by having read something else.

Help send Death Boogie to the largest Arts Festival in the world!

Librettos as supernaturally sophisticated as her melodic sixth sense.

He clears away the worship that can cloud minds.

He skims the event-horizon of listenable music and bearable emotion.

He colonized and abandoned serial worlds of sound and sexuality.

He is the poet of what you think you might have heard.

He has become the portraitist of humanity.

As Batman, he disclaimed heroism without undermining it.

“Can we all get on the same script page, people?”

“Citizen journalist James Guile at your service…”

Her music is the model and message of accom­moda­tion without com­promise

“Some day, I aspire to actual earnings.”

“Another hitch at the shit-factory—literally.”

“Regards to our ever-swift security forces—”

“Pardon my programming language”

“Wot’s this then?”

“Stand by for Rapture!”

“Damn chip malfunctions — thinks he’s still in the Neuro-Arcade…”

“Time for the daynight shift.”

In the end, his assassin proved more influential than he did.

Immortal, like a surgical version of H. Rider Haggard’s SHE.

He let you know authority was a crock, even when he was the one holding it.