Increasingly she's finding it harder to tell the 'real' NYC from translations like Zigotisopolis... as if she keeps getting caught in a vortex taking her farther back in time into the virtual world. C...
If the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance no proof against its magic,what else?
I am Gravity, I am That against which the Rocket must struggle, to which the pre-historic wastes submit and are transmuted to the very substance of History.
Facts are but the Play-things of lawyers,-- Tops and Hoops, forever a-spin... Alas, the Historian may indulge no such idle Rotating. History is not Chronology, for that is left to Lawyers,-- nor is it...
Even though there is a villain here, serious as death. It is this typical American teenager’s own Father, trying episode after episode to kill his son. And the kid knows it. Imagine that.
Don't forget the real business of the war is buying and selling. The murdering and the violence are self-policing, and can be entrusted to non-professionals.
But it is already light. How long has it been light? All this while, light has come percolating in, along with the cold morning air flowing now across his nipples: it has begun to reveal an assortment...
And over my head, relates Squire Haligast, it form’d an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap’d Line drawn all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read,— ‘No King . . .
A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.
Any concentrated mass is actually a local distortion of space itself, there happens to be exactly one surface, registered with the U.S. Patent Office, which, incorporated into a suitable hat design, w...
There is no literature and art without paranoia. Probably there would be even civilization. Paranoia is the world. It is the attempt to make sense of what has not.
The only way clear of the cool/crazy flipflop was obviously slow, frustrating and hard work. Love with your mouth shut, help without breaking your ass or publicizing it: keep cool, but care. He might...
He could still never accept the way each owner, each shadow, filed in only to exchange a dented, malfunctioning version of himself for another, just as futureless, automotive projection of somebody el...
You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world’s intrusion into this one.
You can only cruise the boulevards of regret so far, and then you've got to get back up onto the freeway again.
What's your name? Oedipa said. Winthrop Tremaine, replied the spirited entrepreneur, Winner, for short. Listen, now we're getting up an arrangement with one of the big ready-to-wear outfits in L.A. to...
What more do they want? She asks this seriously, as if there's a real conversion factor between information and lives. Well, strange to say, there is. Written down in the Manual, on file at the War De...
To those of us who survived [...], it also means that we have learned to stand outside our history and watch it, without feeling too much. A little schizoid.
To rule forever, continues the Chinaman, later, it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call . . . Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brut...