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

It makes people nervous for one to step out of one's role.

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

If I had the choice of knowing the truth or searching for the truth, I'd take the search.

Hatred strikes me as one of the few signs of life remaining in the world. This is another thing about the world which is upsidedown: all the friendly and likable people seem dead to me; only the haters seem alive.

We love those who know the worst of us and don't turn their face away.

The mystery lies in the here and now. The mystery is: What is one to do with oneself? As you get older you begin to realize the trick time is playing, and that unless you do something about it, the passage of time is nothing but the encroachment of the horrible banality of the past on the pure future. The past devours the future like a tape recorder, converting pure possibility into banality. The present is the tape head, the mouth of time. Then where is the mystery and why bother kicking through the ashes? Because there is a clue in the past.