Teamwork,” Koteks snarled, “is one word for it, yeah. What it really is is a way to avoid responsibility. It’s a symptom of the gutlessness of the whole society.
THOMAS PYNCHONThe reality is in this head. Mine. I’m the projector at the planetarium, all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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I was dreaming about my grandfather. A very old man, at least as old as I am now, 91. I thought, when I was a boy, that he had been 91 all his life. Now I feel as if I have been 91 all my life.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
The reality is in this head. Mine. I’m the projector at the planetarium, all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
There is no real direction here, neither lines of power nor cooperation. Decisions are never really made – at best they manage to emerge, from a chaos of peeves, whims, hallucinations and all around assholery.
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He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.
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They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.
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All variables are independent.
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Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.
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Someday it’ll all be done by machine. Information machines.
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Everybody gets told to write about what they know. The trouble with many of us is that at the earlier stages of life we think we know everything- or to put it more usefully, we are often unaware of the scope and structure of our ignorance.
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For every kind of vampire, there is a kind of cross.
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She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.
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What sort of an age is this where a man becomes one’s enemy only when his back is turned?
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All investigations of Time, however sophisticated or abstract, have at their true base the human fear of mortality.
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All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.
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There is nothing so loathsome as a sentimental surrealist.
THOMAS PYNCHON