Smash the control images. Smash the control machine.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHSThere are no innocent bystanders, What are they doing there in the first place?
More William S. Burroughs Quotes
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Most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks who can’t mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
There’s no place for impractical dreamers around here.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
I don’t care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
Thanks, for a country where nobody is allowed to mind his own business. Thanks, for a nation of finks.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
The world is now a virus.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
In the U.S., you have to be a deviant or die of boredom.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say ‘I want to see the manager.’
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
If you weren’t surprised by your life you wouldn’t be alive. Life is surprise.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
I began to get a feeling familiar to me from my bartending days of being the only sane man in a nuthouse. It doesn’t make you feel superior but depressed and scared, because there is nobody you can contact.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS -
I bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. Whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink.
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Black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. Casual curses are the most effective.
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There couldn’t be a society of people who didn’t dream. They’d be dead in two weeks.
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I project myself out through the glasses and across the street, a ghost in the morning sunlight, torn with disembodied lust.
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS