Acts have consequences, Dixon, they must. These Louts believe all's right now, — that they are free to get on with Lives that to them are no doubt im… - Thomas Pynchon

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Acts have consequences, Dixon, they must. These Louts believe all's right now, — that they are free to get on with Lives that to them are no doubt important, — with no Glimmer at all of the Debt they have taken on. That is what I smell'd, — Lethe-Water. One of the things the newly-born forget, is how terrible its Taste, and Smell. In Time, these People are able to forget ev'rything. Be willing but to wait a little, and ye may gull them again and again, however ye wish, — even unto their own Dissolution. In America, as I apprehend, Time is the true River that runs 'round Hell.

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About Thomas Pynchon

Thomas Ruggles Pynchon, Jr. (born 8 May 1937) is an American writer based in New York City, known for his dense and complex works of fiction.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Alternative Names: Thomas Ruggles Pynchon, Jr. Thomas Ruggles Pynchon

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Additional quotes by Thomas Pynchon

If there is something comforting-religious , if you want-about paranoia-there is still also anti-paranoia, where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long.

The rest of us, not chosen for enlightenment, left on the outside of Earth, at the mercy of a Gravity we have only begun to learn how to detect and measure, must go on blundering inside our front-brain faith in Kute Korrespondences, hoping that for each psi-synthetic taken from Earth's soul there is a molecule, secular, more or less ordinary and named, over here - kicking endlessly among the plastic trivia, finding in each Deeper Significance and trying to string them all together like terms of a power series hoping to zero in on the tremendous and secret Function whose name, like the permuted names of God, cannot be spoken... plastic saxophone reed sounds of unnatural timbre, shampoo bottle ego-image, Cracker Jack prize one-shot amusement, home appliance casing fairing for winds of cognition, baby bottles tranquilization, meat packages disguise of slaughter, dry-cleaning bags infant strangulation, garden hoses feeding endlessly the desert... but to bring them together, in their slick persistence and our preterition... to make sense out of, to find the meanest sharp sliver of truth in so much replication, so much waste... [Gravity's Rainbow, p. 590]

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