The Winter of our Discontent

If a thing’s true, or even if it aint true and you mean it, sing out!

Can a man think out his life or must he just tag along?

There’s an awful lot of inactive kindness which is nothing but laziness, not wanting any trouble, confusion, or effort.

The thoeries of back to the womb and death-wish (to research)

Soul-shivers

Easy ways of saying things that aren’t easy

Any man of reasonable intelligence can make money if that’s what they want. Mostly its women or admiration they really want but they deflect him.

Morgan and Rockefeller got scared of the ghost they raised and tried to buy it off.

You can set your watch by that dog

Money gets money
Never take the first offer
If someone wants to sell, they got a reason
A thing is only as valuable as who wants it
But they all dont mean nothin without the first

Much of my talk is addressed to people who are dead. Nothing mysterious or mystic about that. It’s asking for advice or an excuse from the inner part of you that is formed and certain.

Money is a crass and ungracious subject only when you have it. The poor find it fascinating.

Anything I know, you are welcome to.

Is murder by slow steady pressure any less murder than a quick and merciful knife thrust?

You who handle poverty badly will handle riches equally badly. Money does not change the sickness, only the symptoms

There are only two measures: no money and not enough money

It is natural for a man who has destroyed something to try to restore balance by creating something.

He was a fairly well educated man, but only because of his processes, his technique of thinking

We had half a million years to get used to fire and less than fifteen to [get used to nuclear bombs/weapons…]. Would we ever have a chance to make a tool of this?

The jets — all that enormous effort and time and money to stockpile all that death. Would we feel cheated if we never used it?

Communities, like people, have periods of health and times of sickness – even youth and age, hope and despondency

New year is the mother of potentials.

There’s clever, and there’s so clever you know to mask you cleverness.

The mouse was growing a lion’s mane.

It’s as though the skin has shrunk in the night and one must push it out to daytime size by bulging the muscles, and there’s an itching pleasure in it.

It’s so much darker when a light goes out than if it had never shone.