Genius Is Childhood Recaptured.

The Sickly Cultural Pathos Which The Whole Of France Indulges In, That Fetishism Of The Cultural Heritage.

The Skylines Lit Up At Dead Of Night, The Air-conditioning Systems Cooling Empty Hotels In The Desert And Artificial Light In The Middle Of The Day All Have Something Both Demented And Admirable About Them. The Mindless Luxury Of A Rich Civilization, And Yet Of A Civilization Perhaps As Scared To See The Lights Go Out As Was The Hunter In His Primitive Night.

With The Truth, You Need To Get Rid Of It As Soon As Possible And Pass It On To Someone Else. As With Illness, This Is The Only Way To Be Cured Of It. The Person Who Keeps Truth In His Hands Has Lost.

It Is Exciting To Hear One Of Your Fondest Ideas Formulated In One Fell Swoop, Better Than You Could Have Done Yourself.

You Need An Infinite Stretch Of Time Ahead Of You To Start To Think, Infinite Energy To Make The Smallest Decision. The World Is Getting Denser. The Immense Number Of Useless Projects Is Bewildering. Too Many Things Have To Be Put In To Balance Up An Uncertain Scale. You Can't Disappear Anymore. You Die In A State Of Total Indecision.