We live technologically, with man as the master of nature, man as the engineer, and let anyone who raises his voice against it stop using bridges not built by nature.... No electric light bulbs, no engines, no atomic energy, no calculating machines, no anaesthetics-back to the jungle.

It is conceivable at least that a late generation, such as we presumably are, has particular need of the sketch, in order not to be strangled to death by inherited conceptions which preclude new births.... The sketch has direction, but no ending; the sketch as reflection of a view of life that is no longer conclusive, or is not yet conclusive.

I have no words for my reality.

It is only the consciousness of a nonexistence which allows us to realize for moments that we are living.

Finished things cease to be a shelter for the spirit; but work in progress is a delight.

Either marriage is a destiny, I believe, or there is no sense in it at all, it's a piece of humbug.

Technology... the knack of so arranging the world that we don't have to experience it.