So when you look at the eschaton what you see, strangely enough, is your own face.

The engineers of the future will be poets.

To contact the cosmic giggle, to have the flow of casuistry begin to give off synchronistic ripples, whitecaps in the billows of the coincidental ether, if you will. To achieve that, a precondition is a kind of unconsciousness, a kind of drifting, a certain taking-your-eye-off-the-ball, a certain assumptions that things are simpler than they are, almost always precedes what Mircea Eliade called ‘the rupture of plane’ that indicates that there is an archetypal world, an archetypal power behind profane appearances.

We have changed. We are no longer, as I said, bipedal monkeys. We are instead a kind of cybernetic coral reef of organic components and inorganic technological components.

What people notice about [when they are on] LSD is either what's right or wrong with themselves or how freaky the world is.

People without plants are in a state of perpetual neurosis, a state of existential wanting.

I can't think of a society on Earth where people don't take drugs that any of us would want anything to do with.