William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Word Lists: William S. Burroughs

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. 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. around here anymore..

Most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks who can't mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has. love? what is it? most natural painkiller what there is. i miss you so much your absence causes me, at times, accute pain. i don't mean sexually. i mean in connection with my writing. day and night. for a while, you could see....

Our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. 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. smash the control images. smash the control machine. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. 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. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. it is to be remembered that all art is magical in origin - music, sculpture, writing, painting - and by magical i mean intended to produce very definite results. paintings were originally formulae to make what is painted happen. art is not an end in itself, any more than einstein's matter-into-energy formulae is an end in itself. like all formulae, art was originally functional, intended to make things happen, the way an atom bomb happens from einstein's formulae. 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. same as any other mouth. day and night. 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..
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