The Medium, Or Process, Of Our Time

Such Is The Content Of The Mental Life Of The Hemingway Hero And The Good Guy In General. Every Day He Gets Beaten Into A Servile Pulp By His Own Mechanical Reflexes, Which Are Constantly Busy Registering And Reacting To The Violent Stimuli Which His Big, Noisy, Kinesthetic Environment Has Provided For His Unreflective Reception.

The Criminal, Like The Artist, Is A Social Explorer.

Radical Changes Of Identity, Happening Suddenly And In Very Brief Intervals Of Time, Have Proved More Deadly And Destructive Of Human Values Than Wars Fought With Hardware Weapons.

I Don't Necessarily Agree With Everything I Say.

The Car Has Become The Carapace, The Protective And Aggressive Shell, Of Urban And Suburban Man.