The hall of the chancellory had been transformed into a cloakroom and there the crowd was thickest.

[…] but if there's somebody out there that's like, 'Oh, his music is wack,' what they're really saying is he's wack... But he's like, 'I don't give a fuck 'cause this isn't even really me.'

In Greenwich, there were many gravelled walks, unshrubbed except for the nurses who dotted them, silent and attitudinized as trees.

[…] who have let down the administration by their quackism and queer performances […]