There was little room in this new world for devils.

I have a theory about suburbs,” Grace mused. “...it all happens here, all the great crimes, kept hidden until they’re too loud to contain. Quiet perversions, quite substance abuse, quiet violence, quiet art. We just don’t hear about it until something big happens. You mark my words – in one of those houses down there is a man with a needle in his arm, fucking a dog whilst composing the greatest poetry since Homer.

He was wondering why, in Britain, he could get just about every type of coffee possible, including some he felt were patently ridiculous, but finding a good cup of tea was becoming harder and harder.

I feel like if you're in Jersey, you have to be a Jersey Devils fan. Anybody born within the confines of the border of the state of New Jersey, I feel, should be a Jersey Devils fan.

You will understand that all of us are devils in the skins of men.

It's a reminder that the political uncertainties and the exciting areas of the world to which you have to go to find this stuff, leave oil vulnerable to supply disruptions.