We want someone to bring us the news.

How real is any of the past, being every moment revalued to make the present possible.

We're comic. We're all comics. We live in a comic time. And the worse it gets the more comic we are.

We want someone to bring us the news.

I see the player piano as the grandfather of the computer, the ancestor of the entire nightmare we live in, the birth of the binary world where there is no option other than yes or no and where there is no refuge.

What’s any artist, but the dregs of his work?

Say a word, say a thousand to me on the telephone and I shall choose the wrong one to cling to as though you had said it after long deliberation when only I provoked it from you, I will cling to it from among a thousand, to be provoked and hurl it back with something I mean no more than you meant that, something for you to cling to and retreat clinging to.