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Information. What’s wrong with dope and women? Is it any wonder the world’s gone insane, with information come to be the only real medium of exchange?

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Amazing exchange Information Reality Sanity Woman Wonderful Wrong

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Creature God Himself People Touch Yourself
It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.
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Confession Happiness Room Transformation Writing
A screaming comes across the sky.
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One Liner Scream Sky
Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.
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Blessing Dreams Home Night Protection Yourself
What sort of an age is this where a man becomes one’s enemy only when his back is turned?
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Age Enemy Himself Man
Love with your mouth shut, help without breaking your ass or publicizing it: keep cool, but care.
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Break Care Help Logic Public Yourself
Through the machineries of greed, pettiness, and the abuse of power, love occurs.
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Abuse Greedy Love Machine Power Technology
He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.
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Born Decision Greatness Home Sick Suffering Temporary
Information. What’s wrong with dope and women? Is it any wonder the world’s gone insane, with information come to be the only real medium of exchange?
THOMAS PYNCHON

Amazing exchange Information Reality Sanity Woman Wonderful Wrong
My belief is that “recluse” is a code word generated by journalists; meaning, “doesn’t like to talk to reporters.”
THOMAS PYNCHON

Believe Code Journalist Media Myself Report Talk Word
Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement. Not A before B, but all together.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Connection Dreams Movement Reality Togetherness
Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Earth Illusion Meaning Philosophy Spiritual Transcendence World
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.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Dreams Ghost Image Life Passage Past Space Word Yourself
Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Despair Herself Sex Yourself
Some of us are afraid of dying; others of human loneliness. Profane was afraid of land or seascapes like this, where nothing else lived but himself.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Afraid Death Himself Human Land Live Lonely Sea
Shall I project a world?
THOMAS PYNCHON

One Liner World

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