Someday it'll all be done by machine. Information machines.
It's like having to make a choice: a blessing or a curse. The one thing you can't do is choose neither.
There is no craftsman who has acquired full mastery.
We must beware the revenge of the starved senses$$$ the embittered animal in its prison.
Like its politicians and its wars$$$ society has the teenagers it deserves.
One needs no strange spiritual faith to worship the earth.
Where the dead walked and the living were made of cardboard.
A real building is one on which the eye can light and stay lit.
A blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks$$$ that is something.
The painting has a life of its own