If people were able to be convinced that art is precise advance knowledge of how to cope with the psychic and social consequences of the next technology, would they all become artists?

World War III is a guerrilla information war with no division between military and civilian participation.

There are no passengers on spaceship earth. We are all crew.

As technology advances, it reverses the characteristics of every situation again and again. The age of automation is going to be the age of 'do it yourself.'

Obsolescence never meant the end of anything, it's just the beginning.

Publication is a self-invasion of privacy.

Madison Avenue is a very powerful aggression against private consciousness. A demand that you yield your private consciousness to public manipulation.

The modern Little Red Riding Hood, reared on singing commercials, has no objection to being eaten by the wolf.

The computer is the most extraordinary of man's technological clothing; it's an extension of our central nervous system. Beside it, the wheel is a mere hula-hoop.

We look at the present through a rear view mirror. We march backwards into the future.

In an age of multiple and massive innovations, obsolescence becomes the major obsession.

It was time to take what he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

The only barrier to entry you can create is to consistently build a great product.

Hurricane Sandy is a disturbing sign of things to come. We must heed this warning and act quickly to solve the climate crisis. Dirty energy makes dirty weather.

Writing is a hard business...but nothing makes you feel better.

He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up.

There is a bit of a once a soap actor always a soap actor thing, but I do think people still recognise talent. If youre good at something, then people have no choice but to accept it.

The opportunities for infinite possibility exist no matter what age we are.

We must do jobs we detest because we are part of an organized society, and if everyone did what they wanted to do, the world would come to a standstill.

Among women, guilt spreads with the rampant fury of bubonic plague. ... I used to feel guilty if the cat had matted fur.

Writers do not write about a place because they belong there, but because they want to.