William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. casual curses are the most effective. 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. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. 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. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. 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. 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. there is nothing more provocative than minding your own business. smash the control images. smash the control machine. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? 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. when you stop growing you start dying. to be an outlaw you must first have a base in law to reject and get out of, i never had such a base. i never had a place i could call home that meant any more than a key to a house, apartment or hotel room. ... am i alien? alien from what exactly? perhaps my home is my dream city, more real than my waking life precisely because it has no relation to waking life... 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. 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. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. in the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. but the asshole would eat its way through all over his mouth. and grow there. would have amputated spontaneously so, the brain couldn't it was trapped inside the skull... the silent, helpless suffering because the eyes went out....

Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. nothing is true, everything is permitted. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. the face of evil is always the face of total need. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. all over his mouth. he would tear it off his mouth it needed the eyes. the brain must have died....

After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'i want to see the manager.' there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. the face of evil is always the face of total need. 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. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. 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. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. we are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of true romance magazines -- we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. i do not say lonely -- at least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. this is what makes your self-respect so important, and i don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness and to start with it was like a novelty ventriloquist act. after a while, the ass started talking on its own. he would go in without anything prepared... and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. little raspy incurving hooks and built an act around it... shouting out it wanted equal rights. "it is you who will shut up all over his mouth. and grow there. would have amputated spontaneously and infiltrated and atrophied. so, the brain couldn't than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk..