One is a socialist because one used to be one, no longer going to demonstrations, attending meetings, sending in one's dues, in short, without paying.

Everyday life invents itself by poaching in countless ways on the property of others.

To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper.

A memory is only a Prince Charming who stays just long enough to awaken the Sleeping Beauties of our wordless stories.

The only freedom supposed to be left to the masses is that of grazing on the ration of simulacra the system distributes to each individual.

An absence of meaning opens a gap in time.

The media transforms the great silence of things into its opposite. Formerly constituting a secret, the real now talks constantly. News reports, information, statistics, and surveys are everywhere.

More than its utilitarian and technocratic transparency, it is the opaque ambivalence of its oddities that makes the city livable.

It seems possible to give a preliminary definition of walking as a space of enunciation.

To walk is to lack a place.

The panorama-city is a 'theoretical' (that is, visual) simulacrum, in short a picture, whose condition of possibility is an oblivion and a misunderstanding of practices.

If you think life is magical or life is hard, either way you are right. Your thoughts are the source of reality.

You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war.

The price of indulging yourself in your youth in the things you cannot afford is poverty and dependence in your old age.

I'd much rather resign than be pushed.

There’s never a wrong idea. You just keep throwing stuff out and inevitably there are elements of different things that inspire a character or environment.

I pretend not to teach, but to inquire.

Start at the end and work back.

Yet everything that touches us, me and you, takes us together like a violin's bow, which draws one voice out of two separate strings.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.

There are no 'good' or 'bad' people. Some are a little better or a little worse, but all are activated more by misunderstanding than malice. A blindness to what is going on in each other's hearts.