To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain. When really, he thinks, it’s a glowing puddle you carry in your hands; you should spend all your energy protecting it.
A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right.
The only way to escape the system is to play with it, to turn its own logic against itself.
Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.