Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
Like many nonconformist and beat generation writers, William S. Burroughs takes the outcasts of society as his theme.
I miss you so much your absence causes me, at times, accute pain. I don't mean sexually. I mean in connection with my writing.
The best way to keep something bad from happening is to see it ahead of time. . . and you can't see it if you refuse to face the possibility.
It is to be remembered that all art is magical in origin - music, sculpture, writing, painting - and by magical I mean intended to produce very definite results. Paintings were originally formulae to make what is painted happen. Art is not an end in itself, any more than Einstein's matter-into-energy formulae is an end in itself. Like all formulae, art was originally FUNCTIONAL, intended to make things happen, the way an atom bomb happens from Einstein's formulae.
There are no innocent bystanders.
Now Christianity sounded good at first to the naive convert. Love, peace and charity - what's wrong with that? I'll tell you what's wrong - a series of unprecedented horrors perpetrated by so-called Christians: The Inquisition, the Conquistadores, the American Indian wars, slavery, Hiroshima and the present-day Bible Belt.
When people ask me to name the Ligonier teaching material they should use to help them grow; I tell them, 'You should start with The Holiness of God. '
Rocks, like louseworts and snail darters and pupfish and 3rd-world black, lesbian, militant poets, have rights, too. Especially the right to exist.
I don't want to stop you. I want you to stop yourself.
When somebody shares, everybody wins.