The priests used to say that faith can move mountains, and nobody believed them. Today the scientists say that they can level mountains, and nobody doubts them.
If you wrap a rubber band tightly around your penis for a week, it will solve all your problems with women.
All, all is theft, all is unceasing and rigorous competition in nature; the desire to make off with the substance of others is the foremost — the most legitimate — passion nature has bred into us... and, without doubt, the most agreeable one.
To put it rather bluntly, I am not the type who wants to go back to the land; I am the type who wants to go back to the hotel.
When the world is full of care and every headline screams despair, when all is rape, starvation, war and life is vile... then there's a certain thing I do which I shall pass along to you, that's always guaranteed to make me smile... I go loo-oo-oony as a light-bulb battered bug, simply loo-oo-oony, sometimes foam and chew the rug... mister, life is swell in a padded cell, it'll chase those blues away... you can trade your gloom for a rubber room and injections twice a day! Just go loo-oo-oony, like an acid casualty, or a Moo-oo-nie, or a preacher on T.V. When the human race wears an anxious face, when the bomb hangs overhead, when your kid turns blue, it won't worry you, you can smile and nod instead! When you're loo-oo-oony, then you just don't give a fig... man's so pu-uu-uny, and the universe so big..! If you get hurt inside, get certified, and if life should treat you bad... don't get ee-ee-even, get mad!
This crippling of individuals I consider the worst evil of capitalism. Our whole educational system suffers from this evil.
Literature takes shape and life in the body, in the wombs of the mother tongue: always: and the Fathers of Culture get anxious about paternity. They start talking about legitimacy. They steal the baby. They ensure by every means that the artist, the writer, is male. This involves intellectual abortion by centuries of women artists, infanticide of works by women writers, and a whole medical corps of sterilizing critics working to purify the Canon, to reduce the subject matter and style of literature to something Ernest Hemingway could have understood.