I am not a liberator. Liberators do not exist. The people liberate themselves.

The word that most perfectly describes the city of Cuzco is evocative. Intangible dust of another era settles on its streets, rising like the disturbed sediment of a muddy lake when you touch its bottom.

The monopoly capitalists - even while employing purely empirical methods - weave around art a complicated web which converts it into a willing tool. The superstructure of society ordains the type of art in which the artist has to be educated. Rebels are subdued by its machinery and only rare talents may create their own work. The rest become shameless hacks or are crushed.

The walls of the educational system must come down. Education should not be a privilege, so the children of those who have money can study.

The interests of the IMF represent the big international interests that today seem to be established and concentrated in Wall Street.

The blacks, those magnificent examples of the African race who have maintained their racial purity thanks to their lack of an affinity with bathing, have seen their territory invaded by a new kind of slave: the Portuguese.

I will fight with all the weapons within my reach rather than let myself be nailed to a cross or whatever.