In America many things that are interesting are seen as odd.
Science has brought us power and ideas but not the wisdom or responsibility to handle them.
So many people seem to spend their lives trying to appear normal, predictable and consistent to themselves and those that surround them. They just end up bored with themselves, bereft of any depth of inner resources, suffocated by the inhibitions that defend their own monolithic identities.
In Chaos Magic, beliefs are not seen as ends in themselves, but as tools for creating desired effects.
Only through absolute loyalty to each other can the few control the many.
The conscious mind is a maelstrom of fleeting thoughts, images, sensations, feelings, conflicting desires, and doubts; barely able to confine its attention to a single clear objective for a microsecond before secondary thoughts begin to adulterate it and provoke yet further trains of mental discourse. If you do not believe this, then attempt to confine your conscious attention to the dot at the end of this sentence without involving yourself in any other form of thinking, including thinking about the dot.
That which is denied gains power, and seeks strange and unexpected forms of manifestation.
I thought of all the magazine article I'd read on mothers who worked and constantly felt guilty about leaving their children with someone else. I had trained myself to read pieces like that and silently say to myself, 'See how lucky you are?' But it had been gnawing at the inside, that part that didn't fit, that I never let myself even think about. After all, wasn't it a worse kind of guilt to be with your child and to know that you wanted to be anywhere but there?
One of the great elements of the supernatural is having that mystery and letting people's imaginations run wild with it.
There comes a moment, when you get lost in the woods, when the woods begin to feel like home.
. . . the more you look at the same exact thing, the more the meaning goes away, and the better and emptier you feel.