We are capitalism made flesh.

Never before, I suspect, have so many people been so rich to so little purpose.

Politics is rather the creation of the best possible polity out of the deep inner needs of its citizenry - who are only some of its members.

Paradoxically, the problems of politics often arise not in the form of a problem of scarcity, but as one of abundance.

Books, like lives, are always unfinished even when they end, for to write is to struggle with contingency, to impose a certain false order upon the endless, and endlessly frustrating, nature of thought.

For every apparent gain, in short, we now observe a balancing danger. This is the world we have created.

Dreams are evidence that we are creatures who produce more meaning than we can ourselves understand.