If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound and sear, that wring groans and tears and curses, know that they come from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words and his words are always stronger than the lying, crushing weight of the world, stronger than all the racks and wheels which the cowardly invent to crush out the miracle of personality.
If any man ever dared to translate all that is in his heart, to put down what is really his experience, what is truly his truth, I think then the world would go to smash, that it would be blown to smithereens and no god, no accident, no will could ever again assemble the pieces, the atoms, the indestructible elements that have gone to make up the world.
… no picture, this is just perfect….
Hal listened to a few minutes of the stuff and told his brother it sounded like somebody’s mind coming apart right
before your ears.
People in free societies don’t have to fear the pathology of the state. We create our own frenzy,
our own mass convulsions, driven by thinking machines that we have no final authority over. The
frenzy is barely noticeable most of the time. It’s simply how we live.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
Even if I wrote a good love poem by accident, the best a good love poem could be was nice, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be nice to June, just that… what? Who wouldn’t be nice to her? That was that. I wanted to do something someone else wouldn’t, preferably something that someone else couldn’t. No one thing seemed good enough though.
And than I remembered the clock in the gym. How everyone said it couldn’t be smashed.