While the human gaze becomes more and more fixed, losing some of its natural speed and sensitivity, photographic shots, on the contrary, become even faster.

The speed of light does not merely transform the world. It becomes the world. Globalization is the speed of light.

Science, which is not so attached to 'truth' as it once was, but more to immediate 'effectiveness', is now drifting towards a decline, it's civic fall from grace.

There are eyes everywhere. No blind spot left. What shall we dream of when everything becomes visible? We'll dream of being blind.

Digital messages and images matter less than their instantaneous delivery; the shock effect always wins out over the consideration of the informational content.

Speed now illuminates reality whereas light once gave objects of the world their shape.

The invention of the ship was also the invention of the shipwreck.

To regain our liberty (and our distance), we must slow the images down.

How can we live if there is no more here and everything is now?

Images contaminate us like viruses.

Today, everything is about speed and real time. We are no longer concerned with real space.

God grant ... that he may learn to understand in time, that whoso is minded to do as he himself wills will soon enough see the day when he will find he has done that which he had never willed.

If you have easy self-contentment, you might have a very, very cheap source of happiness.

Just because your world is falling apart doesn't mean you have to fall apart. When everything seems crazy, you be calm. Don't let the outer chaos you are facing get inside of you.

Simplicity is that grace which frees the soul from all unnecessary reflections upon itself.

Just be true to you. What works for me might not work for someone else and what works for someone else might not work for me.

My men have become women, but the women men.

Okay, well, I guess I'm still a kid. Because when I get really angry and fired up and I feel like my back is up against the wall, I will say vicious things.

The only possible way out for the white man is to give us Negroes some land of our own; let us get out, get away from his wicked reign and go for ourselves.

Memories were moving pictures in which meaning was constantly in flux. They were stories people told themselves.

But, perhaps, the flatterer is not often detected; for an honest mind is not apt to suspect, and no one exerts the power of discernment with much vigour when selflove favors the deceit.