William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Language is a virus from outer space. anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. the only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. you were not there for the beginning. you will not be there for the end. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. when you stop growing you start dying. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. did i ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? his whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig, farting out the words. nobody loved it. beating at it with his fists... in the end, not me... i can talk and eat and shit." so, finally, his mouth sealed over... nerve connections were blocked... as one judge said to another judge: be just. and if you can't be just, be arbitrary..

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. nothing is true, everything is permitted. sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. 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. 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... how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. "it is you who will shut up and infiltrated and atrophied. of the brain behind the eyes..

A functioning police state needs no police. 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. 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. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. i am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. 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. my affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits. smash the control images. smash the control machine. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. 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... in homosexual sex you know exactly what the other person is feeling, so you are identifying with the other person completely. in heterosexual sex you have no idea what the other person is feeling. 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. there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. and sticking candles up it, but... around here anymore. it needed the eyes. it was trapped inside the skull... for a while, you could see....