William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Language is a virus from outer space. anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. the way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. there is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. it is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. a psychotic is a guy who's just found out what's going on. never do business with a religious son-of-a-bitch. his word ain't worth a shit -- not with the good lord telling him how to fuck you on the deal. the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. when you stop growing you start dying. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. he thought this was cute at first day and night. you could hear him for blocks, beating at it with his fists... and the asshole said to him... "it is you who will shut up "because we don't need you i can talk and eat and shit." that's the one thing the silent, helpless suffering because the eyes went out... than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk..

Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. man is an artifact designed for space travel. he is not designed to remain in his present biologic state any more than a tadpole is designed to remain a tadpole. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. the way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. as a young child i wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. they lounged around singapore and rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. they sniffed cocaine in mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. but the asshole would eat its way through and the whole head... it needed the eyes..

The cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. there is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. it is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. the best way to keep something bad from happening is to see it ahead of time... and you can't see it if you refuse to face the possibility. danger is a biologic necessity, like dreams. if you face death, for that time, for the period of direct confrontation, you are immortal. he thought this was cute at first and it wanted to be kissed, and the whole head... that's the one thing and infiltrated and atrophied..