I sat in the dark and thought: There’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.

Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking towards Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty To Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You've Given Them A Good Thumping but secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People travelled with them.

I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.

It's weird...you know the end of something great is coming, but you want to hold on, just for one more second...just so it can hurt a little more.

The world is always ending for someone. It’s a good line. I give it to the father of the child. He says it to his wife. ‘The world is always ending for someone,’ he says. She is trying to quieten the baby, and does not hear him. I doubt that it would matter if she did.

You're Hell's Angels, then? What chapter are you from?'

'REVELATIONS. CHAPTER SIX.