The suburbs: signs of life, but no proofs.
Spirituality now wanders from sex to drugs to art to revolution to violence--whatever seems to promise deliverance from the quotidian.
Outside literature, high-flown sentiments are merely exasperating.
My obsessions used to be my protectors, but now they have taken me prisoner.
The best propaganda omits rather than invents
The neuroses parody the virtues.