“The first duty of a revolutionary is to get away with it. The second duty is to eat breakfast. I ain’t going.”

Fantasy is the only truth.

The work that the kids saw around them was so odious, so boring, so worthless that they came to regard WORK as the only dirty four-letter word in the English language.

The first duty of a revolutionist is to get away with it. The second duty is to eat breakfast. I ain’t going.

Become an internationalist and learn to respect all life. Make war on machines. And in particular the sterile machines of corporate death and the robots that guard them.

Sacred cows make the tastiest hamburger.

Democracy is not something you believe in or a place to hang your hat, but it’s something you do. You participate. If you stop doing it, democracy crumbles.

Nostalgia is a form of depression both for a society and an individual.

It’s too late. We can’t win, they’ve gotten too powerful.

Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit.

It’s going to be a combination Scopes trial, revolution in the streets, Woodstock Festival and People’s Park, all rolled into one.

Never impose your language on people you wish to reach.

Random political acts produce random political results. Why waste even a rock?

Smoking dope and hanging up Che’s picture is no more a commitment than drinking milk and collecting postage stamps.

Free speech means the right to shout ‘theatre’ in a crowded fire.

A revolution in consciousness is an empty high without a revolution in the distribution of power. We are not interested in the greening of Amerika except for the grass that will cover its grave.

The essence of successful revolution, be it for an individual, a community of individuals, or a nation, depends on accepting that challenge.

If you got up this morning and had fruits for breakfast, it was probably picked by the bent back of an immigrant worker. If you slept in a hotel or motel of the nation, you probably had your room done by an immigrant worker.

You know you poor when you eatin’ breakfast food late. You fryin’ toast? At nine o’clock at night? With bacon? You’re broke.

Get out from that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans. Well, roll my breakfast cause I’m a hungry man.

I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day. No dust has settled on one’s mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.

What is it with you today?” says Christina on the way to breakfast. Her eyes are still swollen from sleep and her tangled hair forms a fuzzy halo around her face.

If you want to eat well in England, eat three breakfasts.

I myself prefer my New Zealand eggs for breakfast.

If I had my choice I would kill every reporter in the world, but I am sure we would be getting reports from Hell before breakfast.