Who wants a world in which the guarantee that we shall not die of starvation entails the risk of dying of boredom?

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

Hope is the leash of submission.

We can escape the commonplace only by manipulating it, controlling it, thrusting it into our dreams or surrendering it to the free play of our subjectivity.

Production and consumption are the nipples of modern society. Thus suckled, humanity grows in strength and beauty; rising standard of living, all modern conveniences, distractions of all kinds, culture for all, the comfort of your dreams.

As poverty has been reduced in terms of mere survival, it has become more profound in terms of our way of life.

Where constraint breaks people, and mediation makes fools of them, the seduction of power is what makes them love their oppression. Because of it, people give up their real riches for a cause that mutilates them; for an appearance that reifies them; for roles that wrest them from authentic life; for a time whose passage defines and confines them.