Hell Is Out Of Fashion --institutional Hells

'what Was Being On The Moon Literally Like?' [. . .] 'being On The Moon?' His Tired Gaze Inspected The Narrow Street Of Cheap Jewellery Stores, With Its Office Messengers And Lottery Touts, The Off-duty Taxi-drivers Leaning Against Their Cars. 'it Was Just Like Being Here.'

Along With Our Passivity, We're Entering A Profoundly Masochistic Phase Everyone Is A Victim These Days, Of Parents, Doctors, Pharmaceutical Companies, Even Love Itself. And How Much We Enjoy It. Our Happiest Moments Are Spent Trying To Think Up New Varieties Of Victimhood.

Nagasaki Destroyed By The Magic Of Science Is The Nearest Man Has Yet Approached To The Realization Of Dreams That Even During The Safe Immobility Of Sleep Are Accustomed To Develop Into Nightmares Of Anxiety.

If You Can Smell Garlic, Everything Is All Right.

The Reptiles Had Taken Over The City. Once Again They Were The Dominant Form Of Life. Looking Up At The Ancient Impassive Faces, Kerans Could Understand The Curious Fear They Roused, Rekindling Archaic Memories Of The Terrifying Jungles Of The Paleocene, When The Reptiles Had Gone Down Before The Emergent Mammals, And Sense The Implacable Hatred One Zoological Class Feels Towards Another That Usurps It.