This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering its a feather bed.

You are some kind of a mystery suspended between two eternities. And in that moment, when a mind looks out at a world and asks the question, ‘What is it?’ In that moment art can be created.

What we now have is the freedom which attends decadence, or the decadence which attends freedom.

The leading edge of reality is mind, and mind is the primary substratum of being.

Capitalism is not a human being. Capitalism is a Moloch, a god, a god of bloody sacrifice that sees human beings as ants

I think what we have to do is convince people that matter is tacky.

If the ego is not regularly and repeatedly dissolved in the unbounded hyperspace of the Transcendent Other, there will always be slow drift away from the sense of self as part of nature’s larger whole. The ultimate consequence of this drift is the fatal ennui that now permeates Western Civilization.