Daydreaming subverts the world.

There are more truths in twenty-four hours of a man's life than in all the philosophies.

The eruption of lived pleasure is such that in losing myself I find myself; forgetting that I exist, I realize myself.

Never before has a civilization reached such a degree of a contempt for life; never before has a generation, drowned in mortification, felt such a rage to live.

Work to survive, survive by consuming, survive to consume; the hellish cycle is complete.

I do not dream of a gentle revolution. My passion runs to the violence of supersession, the ferocity of a life that renounces nothing.

Work is the opposite of creativity.