The Heart is an Involuntary Muscle quotes

"once you figure it out, that it's all in your head, all the dreams, all the love, once you know everything is created in the huge, high voltage workshop of our minds, you're saved. You switch off the turbines, turn off the fantasy machine before it gets out of control. You can turn it on for a test run just to see what it'll do, the flush of new blood, the trembling, the hammering heart."

"in my unoffensive state of neutrality, she imprisoned me with her calm voice and watch tower eyes, and forced me to swallow all her bitter bile"

"In our heads ghosts lurk, so unobtrusive we forget they're there. We walk around, eat, all the while we're carrying them with us, weightless as angels, enveloped in the silent sheets of our nerve endings. Then a holy place looms up before us, a place of the accursed, a place that belongs to them but we've intruded, out of absentmindedness or stupidity, and suddenly rouse themselves and come tumbling from our heads, hitting the ground with a ferocious roar, the din of awakened ghosts"

“The media landscape of the present day is a map in search of a territory. A huge volume of sensational and often toxic imagery inundates our minds, much of it fictional in content. How do we make sense of this ceaseless flow of advertising and publicity, news and entertainment, where presidential campaigns and moon voyages are presented in terms indistinguishable from the launch of a new candy bar or deodorant? What actually happens on the level of our unconscious minds when, within minutes on the same TV screen, a prime minister is assassinated, an actress makes love, an injured child is carried from a car crash? Faced with these charged events, prepackaged emotions already in place, we can only stitch together a set of emergency scenarios, just as our sleeping minds extemporize a narrative from the unrelated memories that veer through the cortical night. In the waking dream that now constitutes everyday reality, images of a blood-spattered widow, the chromium trim of a limousine windshield, the stylised glamour of a motorcade, fuse together to provide a secondary narrative with very different meanings.”

― J.G. Ballard, The Atrocity Exhibition

Actually, Satan doesn’t want souls. What in the Hell would he do with them? They’re an invention of priests of the other religions. They have no substance, and Satan is only interested in that which can be felt, tasted, seen, smelled and heard —consciously or unconsciously — in other words, what is REAL!

Octopus on the brain!