William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Nothing is true, everything is permitted. the face of evil is always the face of total need. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. 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. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. when you stop growing you start dying. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born..

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. you know a real friend? someone you know will look after your cat after you are gone. cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. open your mind and let the pictures out. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. same as any other mouth. screaming at it to shut up... beating at it with his fists... "it is you who will shut up it needed the eyes. the silent, helpless suffering.

How i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. nothing exists until or unless it is observed. an artist is making something exist by observing it. and his hope for other people is that they will also make it exist by observing it. i call it 'creative observation.' creative viewing. i bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink... cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. and sticking candles up it, but... nothing did any good, he would tear it off his mouth what a horrible loutish planet this is. the dominant species consists of sadistic morons, faces bearing the hideous lineaments of spiritual famine swollen with stupid hate. hopeless rubbish..