The Weapon Of Criticism Can Never Replace

Misery Motivates, Not Utopia.

Religion Is The Opiate Of The People.

The Less You Eat, Drink And Read Books; The Less You Go To The Theatre, The Dance Hall, The Public House; The Less You Think, Love, Theorize, Sing, Paint, Fence, Etc., The More You Save-the Greater Becomes Your Treasure Which Neither Moths Nor Dust Will Devour-your Capital. The Less You Are, The More You Have; The Less You Express Your Own Life, The Greater Is Your Alienated Life-the Greater Is The Store Of Your Estranged Being.

Modern Bourgeois Society With Its Relations Of Production, Of Exchange, And Of Property, A Society That Has Conjured Up Such Gigantic Means Of Production And Of Exchange, Is Like The Sorcerer, Who Is No Longer Able To Control The Powers Of The Nether World Whom He Has Called Up By His Spells.

All Freed, Fast-frozen Relations, With Their Train Of Ancient And Venerable Prejudices And Opinions, Are Swept Away, All New-formed Ones Become Antiquated Before They Can Ossify. All That Is Solid Melts Into Air, All That Is Holy Is Profaned, And Man Is At Last Compelled To Face With Sober Senses, His Real Conditions Of Life, And His Relations With His Kind.