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Zoyd was out of smokes.

Same old Satanic pact, only more of it.

How do you feel about this terrible thing? Terrible, said Oedipa. Wonderful!

On the book Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me) Coming on like the Hallelujah Chorus done by 200 kazoo players with perfect pitch. Hilarious, chilling, sexy, profound, maniacal, beautiful and outrageous all at the same time.

Tchitcherine: "You mean thio phosphate, don't you?" Thinks indicating the presence of sulfur …Wimpe: "I mean theo phosphate, Vaslav," indicating the Presence of God .

I don't do lunch. Corrupt artifact of late capitalism. Breakfast maybe?

Oedipa stood in the living room, stared at by the greenish dead eye of the TV tube, spoke the name of God, tried to feel as drunk as possible. But this did not work.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world's intrusion into this one.

Doc went automotively groping in this weirdness east on Olympic, trying not to flinch at what came popping up out of the gloom in the way of city buses and pedestrians in altered states of consciousness.

Was that how he'd died, she wondered, among dreams, crushed by the only ikon in the house?

Where may one breathe?" demands one Continental Macaroni, in a yellow waistcoat, "— in New-York, Taverns have rooms where Smoke is prohibited." "Tho' clearly," replies the itinerant Stove-Salesman Mr. Whitpot, drawing vigorously at his Pipe, "what's needed is a No-Idiots Area.

And over my head," relates Squire Haligast, "it form'd an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap'd Line drawn all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read,— 'No King . . .

Rescue, however, had many names, and the rope up which a maiden climbed to safety might be used to bind her most cruelly.

bearing the old Pewter Coffee-Machine venting its Puffs of Vapor

what we were doing out in that Country together was brave, scientifick beyond my understanding, and ultimately meaningless

Aitisi nai poroja," replied Veikko, a pleasantry long grown routine, meaning, "Your mother fucks reindeer.

the figure dropped like an acid tab into the mouth of Time.

Listen, Hilarius said after awhile, have I seemed to you a good enough Freudian? Have I ever deviated seriously? You made faces now and then, said Oedipa, but that's minor.

Piss runneth downhill, and Pay-Day is Saturday, -now you're a qualified Fence-runner.

We should not be surprised to find the left concentrated in institutions where ideas do not have to work in order to survive.

But his was an understandable mistake, given how little attention is paid to accuracy in history and how often history is used as just a propaganda tool in current controversies.

Some years ago, in my syndicated column, I challenged anyone to name any economist, of any school of thought, who had actually advocated a "trickle down" theory. No one quoted any economist, politician or person in any other walk of life who had ever advocated such a theory, even though many readers named someone who claimed that someone else had advocated it, without being able to quote anything actually said by that someone else. 2

A cynic once said that there is nothing more permanent than a temporary government policy.

Put bluntly, failure attracts more money than success. Politically, failure becomes a reason to demand more money...