The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth--it is the truth which conceals that there is none. The simulacrum is true.

Art does not die because there is no more art. It dies because there is too much.

Welcome to the Desert of the Real.

Forgetting the extermination is part of the extermination itself.

If everything is perfect, language is useless. This is true for animals. If animals don't speak, it's because everything's perfect for them. If one day they start to speak, it will be because the world has lost a certain sort of perfection.

As for freedom, it will soon cease to exist in any shape or form. Living will depend upon absolute obedience to a strict set of arrangements, which it will no longer be possible to transgress. The air traveler is not free. In the future, life's passengers will be even less so: they will travel through their lives fastened to their (corporate) seats.

There is no human reason to be here, except for the sheer ecstasy of being crowded together.