When the individual feels, the community reels.

People will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

Science has explained nothing; the more we know the more fantastic the world becomes and the profounder the surrounding darkness.

Armaments, universal debt and planned obsolescence - those are the three pillars of Western prosperity.

But then people don't read literature in order to understand; they read it because they want to re-live the feelings and sensations which they found exciting in the past. Art can be a lot of things; but in actual practice, most of it is merely the mental equivalent of alcohol and cantharides.

Every ceiling reached becomes a floor.

In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement.