Civilised Life, You Know, Is Based On

It's True That I Have Very Little Idea What I Shall Be Writing Next, But At The Same Time I Have A Powerful Premonition Of Everything That Lies Ahead Of Me, Even Ten Years Ahead.

Nagasaki Destroyed By The Magic Of Science Is The Nearest Man Has Yet Approached To The Realization Of Dreams That Even During The Safe Immobility Of Sleep Are Accustomed To Develop Into Nightmares Of Anxiety.

Even One's Own Home Is A Kind Of Anthology Of Advertisers, Manufacturers, Motifs And Presentation Techniques. There's Nothing 'natural' About One's Home These Days. The Furnishings, The Fabrics, The Furniture, The Appliances, The Tv, And All The Electronic Equipment - We're Living Inside Commercials.

Most Writers Flinch At The Thought Of Being Completely Honest About Themselves. So Absolute Honesty Is What Marks The True Modern.

Burroughs Called His Greatest Novel Naked Lunch, By Which He Meant It's What You See On The End Of A Fork. He's A Writer Of Enormous Richness Whose Books Are A Kind Of Attempt To Blow Up This Cozy Conspiracy, To Allow Us To See What's On The End Of The Fork . . . The Truth.