Everything was simple, physical, painful, exalting. The world consisted of the four elements - land and water, firepower and distancing air.

A lot of what I've written in criticism of my lust for virtue - my discovery that I've committed idolatry, making of the good an idol - is open to the charge of being still caught within the dialectic of idolatry. I've made a moral criticism of my moral consciousness. Meta-idolatry.

the process of building a self and its works is always too slow. One is always in arrears to oneself.

The writer must be four people: 1) The nut, the obsede 2) The moron 3) The stylist 4) The critic. 1 supplies the material; 2 lets it come out; 3 is taste; 4 is intelligence.

Persons who merely have-a-life customarily move in a dense fluid. That's how they're able to conduct their lives at all. Their living depends on not seeing.

If there can be a better way for the real world to include the one of images, it will require an ecology not only of real things but of images as well.

This is the beauty that emerges from self-confidence, class confidence. That says, I am not born to please. I am born to be pleased.