Revolution Is The Festival Of The Oppressed.

If The Next Time Our Governments Propose To Make War On A Helpless Civilian Population We Were To Uncover Our Grief And Guilt Instead Of Our Anger, How Much Difference Might We Make?

People Who Are Really Happy Do Not Concern Themselves With Convincing Others Of The Fact.

Many A Housewife Staring At The Back Of Her Husband's Newspaper, Or Listening To His Breathing In Bed Is Lonelier Than Any Spinster In A Rented Room.

Love, Love, Love – All The Wretched Cant Of It, Masking Egotism, Lust, Masochism, Fantasy Under A Mythology Of Sentimental Postures, A Welter Of Self-induced Miseries And Joys, Blinding And Masking The Essential Personalities In The Frozen Gestures Of Courtship, In The Kissing And The Dating And The Desire, The Compliments And The Quarrels Which Vivify Its Barrenness.

Perhaps Catastrophe Is The Natural Human Environment, And Even Though We Spend A Good Deal Of Energy Trying To Get Away From It, We Are Programmed For Survival Amid Catastrophe.