Americans May Have No Identity,

You Need An Infinite Stretch Of Time Ahead Of You To Start To Think, Infinite Energy To Make The Smallest Decision. The World Is Getting Denser. The Immense Number Of Useless Projects Is Bewildering. Too Many Things Have To Be Put In To Balance Up An Uncertain Scale. You Can't Disappear Anymore. You Die In A State Of Total Indecision.

If We Consider The Superiority Of The Human Species, The Size Of Its Brain, Its Powers Of Thinking, Language And Organization, We Can Say This: Were There The Slightest Possibility That Another Rival Or Superior Species Might Appear, On Earth Or Elsewhere, Man Would Use Every Means At His Disposal To Destroy It.

Terror Is As Much A Part Of The Concept Of Truth As Runniness Is Of The Concept Of Jam. We Wouldn't Like Jam If It Didn't, By Its Very Nature, Ooze. We Wouldn't Like Truth If It Wasn't Sticky, If, From Time To Time, It Didn't Ooze Blood.

Deep Down, The Us, With Its Space, Its Technological Refinement, Its Bluff Good Conscience, Even In Those Spaces Which It Opens Up For Simulation, Is The Only Remaining Primitive Society.

Postmodernity Is Said To Be A Culture Of Fragmentary Sensations, Eclectic Nostalgia, Disposable Simulacra, And Promiscuous Superficiality, In Which The Traditionally Valued Qualities Of Depth, Coherence, Meaning, Originality, And Authenticity Are Evacuated Or Dissolved Amid The Random Swirl Of Empty Signals.