This Midwestern sky is the nakedest loneliest sky in America. To escape it, people live inside and underground.

In a word, the consumer of mass culture is lonely, not only lonely, but spiritually impoverished.

Boredom is the self being stuffed with itself.

Have you noticed that only in time of illness or disaster or death are people real?

Why did God make woman so beautiful and man with such a loving heart?

For some time now the impression has been growing upon me that everyone is dead. It happens when I speak to people. In the middle of a sentence it will come over me: yes, beyond a doubt this is death. There is little to do but groan and make an excuse and slip away as quickly as one can.

Classes? Categories? Was that what we had come to?