You're in a bad way! Apparently, you have developed a soul.

Dogma, static positions, consonance - all these are obstacles to catching the disease of art, at least in its more complex forms.

Individual consciousness is just sickness.

In order to write about the machine you have to know it, to live with it, to love it (or hate it). I think that true writing could be done on industrial subjects by people who work in industry, who are firmly linked with it. But ... and here is the opposite 'but', the technology of literary craftsmanship is itself a very fine and complex matter. Qualified specialists from industry prove themselves dilettantes in the field of literature. The needed synthesis is not yet in sight.

And everyone must lose his mind, everyone must! The sooner the better! It is essential — I know it.

They do not need the sun. Who needs the sun when the eyes glow? Darkness. A woolen fog has wrapped the earth, has dropped a heavy curtain. From far away, from beyond the curtain, comes the sound of drops falling on stone. Far, far away - the autumn, people, tomorrow. ("The North")

There is no final one; revolutions are infinite.