Mass communication communicates massively: its language lacks precise articulation and avoids demanding terms; it argues for the kind of behavior in life which will make a "good program": ethic equals showbiz.

Words, isolated in the velvet of radio, took on a jeweled particularity. Television has quite the opposite effect: words are drowned in the visual soup in which they are obliged to be served.

Truth maybe stranger than fiction, but fiction is truer.

People resent articulacy, as if articulacy were a form of vice.

At last, after innumerable glamorous and frightful years, mankind approaches a war which is totally predictable from beginning to end.

As Oscar Wilde should have said, when bad ideas have nowhere else to go, they emigrate to America and become university courses.

Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled.