I doubt that the imagination can be suppressed. If you truly eradicated it in a child, he would grow up to be an eggplant.

For we each of us deserve everything, every luxury that was ever piled in the tombs of the dead Kings, and we each of us deserve nothing, not a mouthful of bread in hunger. Have we not eaten while another starved? Will you punish us for that? Will you reward us for the virtue of starving while others ate? No man earns punishment, no man earns reward. Free your mind of the idea of deserving, the idea of earning, and you will begin to be able to think.

Light is the left hand of darkness and darkness the right hand of light. Two are one, life and death, lying together like lovers in kemmer, like hands joined together, like the end and the way.

If one believes that words are acts, as I do, then one must hold writers responsible for what their words do.

Dead anarchists make martyrs, you know, and keep living for centuries. But absent ones can be forgotten.

The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.

To have a choice at all is to be privileged.