William S. Burroughs Ipsum

In my writing i am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, a cosmonaut of inner space, and i see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed. the only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. little raspy incurving hooks and the pieces would stick to his hands....

Language is a virus from outer space. a functioning police state needs no police. after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'i want to see the manager.' happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. the face of evil is always the face of total need. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? i don't care if people hate my guts; i assume most of them do. the important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. in the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. all over his mouth. he would tear it off his mouth that the asshole couldn't do was see. and infiltrated and atrophied. for a while, you could see... because the eyes went out....

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. smash the control images. smash the control machine. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered, and i fear i never will. thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. 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. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. but the asshole would eat its way through nobody loved it. day and night. he would tear it off his mouth for a while, you could see... 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..