They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.
THOMAS PYNCHONIf patterns of ones and zeros were ‘like’ patterns of human lives and death, if everything about an individual could be represented in a computer record by a long string of ones and zeros, then what kind of creature would be represented by a long string of lives and deaths?
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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Can’t say it often enough — change your hair, change your life.
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A screaming comes across the sky.
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It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty little heads.
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But with a sigh he had released her hand, while she was so lost in the fantasy that she hadn’t felt it go away, as if he’d known the best moment to let go.
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What goes around may come around, but it never ends up exactly the same place, you ever notice? Like a record on a turntable, all it takes is one groove’s difference and the universe can be on into a whole ‘nother song.
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You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
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You go from dream to dream inside me. You have passage to my last shabby corner, and there, among the debris, you’ve found life. I’m no longer sure which of all the words, images, dreams or ghosts are ‘yours’ and which are ‘mine.’ It’s past sorting out.
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A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.
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To have humanism we must first be convinced of our humanity. As we move further into decadence this becomes more difficult.
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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.
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It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.
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Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.
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If there is something comforting – religious, if you want – about paranoia, there is still also anti-paranoia, where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long.
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Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.
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Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength.
THOMAS PYNCHON