Sex Times Technology Equals The

Hell Is Out Of Fashion --institutional Hells At Any Rate. The Populated Infernos Of The 20th Century Are More Private Affairs, The Gaps Between The Bars Are The Sutures Of One's Own Skull. . .

Everywhere - All Over Africa And South America - You See These Suburbs Springing Up. They Represent The Optimum Of What People Want. There's A Certain Sort Of Logic Leading Towards These Immaculate Suburbs. And They're Terrifying, Because They Are The Death Of The Soul. This Is The Prison This Planet Is Being Turned Into.

Perhaps Violence, Like Pornography, Is Some Kind Of An Evolutionary Standby System, A Last-resort Device For Throwing A Wild Joker Into The Game?

The Car As We Know It Is On The Way Out. To A Large Extent, I Deplore Its Passing, For As A Basically Old-fashioned Machine, It Enshrines A Basically Old-fashioned Idea: Freedom. In Terms Of Pollution, Noise And Human Life, The Price Of That Freedom May Be High, But Perhaps The Car, By The Very Muddle And Confusion It Causes, May Be Holding Back The Remorseless Spread Of The Regimented, Electronic Society.

I Don't Think Any Particular Painters Have Inspired Me, Except In A General Sense. It Was More A Matter Of Corroboration. The Visual Arts, From Manet Onwards, Seemed Far More Open To Change And Experiment Than The Novel, Though That's Only Partly The Fault Of The Writers. There's Something About The Novel That Resists Innovation.