I think the key image of the 20th century is the man in the motor car. It sums up everything: the elements of speed, drama, aggression, the junction … - J. G. Ballard

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I think the key image of the 20th century is the man in the motor car. It sums up everything: the elements of speed, drama, aggression, the junction of advertising and consumer goods with the technological landscape. The sense of violence and desire, power and energy; the shared experience of moving together through an elaborately signalled landscape. We spend a substantial part of our lives in the motor car, and the experience of driving condenses many of the experiences of being a human being in the 1970s, the marriage of the physical aspects of ourselves with the imaginative and technological aspects of our lives. I think the 20th century reaches its highest expression on the highway. Everything is there: the speed and violence of our age; the strange love affair with the machine, with its own death.

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About J. G. Ballard

James Graham Ballard (15 November 1930 – 19 April 2009) was a British novelist and short story writer who was a prominent member of the New Wave in science fiction. Among his most famous books are the controversial Crash, High-Rise and the autobiographical novel Empire of the Sun, all of which have been adapted to film.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: James Graham Ballard
Alternative Names: James Graham "J. G." Ballard
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Additional quotes by J. G. Ballard

Miriam - I'll give you any flowers you want!' Rhapsodising over the thousand scents of her body, I exclaimed: 'I'll grow orchids from your hands, roses from your breasts. You can have magnolias in your hair...!'
'And in my heart?'
'In your womb I'll set a fly-trap!

Below the bows of the Arrawa a child’s coffin moved onto the night stream. Its paper flowers were shaken loose by the wash of a landing craft carrying sailors from the American cruiser. The flowers formed a wavering garland around the coffin as it began its long journey to the estuary of the Yangtze, only to be swept back by the incoming tide among the quays and mud flats, driven once again to the shores of this terrible city (279).

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