Much fire under a
big civilization. Dry
fire, vigorous, great.

The soft days are rows
of fire in the sky, taking
exhausted lives. The

promotion of vice
is the promotion of good
governance. They blame

hard times—there is no
blame, no damage, no harm. Do
not lose the plot. Hang

the emperor in
public. Hang the villains in
public. Cart the gang

to Taiwan. Contain
the damage; letters to the
common folk are like

letters to heaven.
Distinguish between God and
adversity. God

bless the common folk,
easy and free. God bless the
public without God.

[Original Chinese (auto-detected as Chinese Simplified) via Bing translator]

http://www.humaniverse.net/iching/Tao/Chinese_IChing_index.html

Every suicide
of a theologian is
a resurrection

***************

Patriotism is
the wax dog of cowardice
barking at your heart

***************

A man is himself
only so long as he’s not
intelligible

***************

The monogamous
relationship will never
assuage solitude

***************

After your death you
will be what you were before
music existed

***************

A man’s brain is an
idiot text, parasite
of his intellect

***************

Perversity is
a fascination with the
inexplicable

***************

Dry colleagues one day
under fire: members in the
wild, involved. The world

of ambition, the
syndrome of ambition meets
the flexible door

of ambition, and
the differentiation
of classes is a

stingy road of blame
ascending the city wall
like a three-year-old

Chiang Kai-shek, like a
gentleman who is also
the trapped enemy.

Wail, attack, depress,
direct against going. The
mutual restraint

of masters is a
suburb of no regret. Laugh,
generally, first.

[Original Chinese (auto-detected as Chinese Simplified) via Bing translator]

http://www.humaniverse.net/iching/Tao/Chinese_IChing_index.html

Radishes are all
we have. We have words, but they’re
unnecessary.

***************

Obliterate bliss.
Pulverize delirium.
Weep for butterflies.

***************

There’s no cure for a
God who is no longer young,
reduced to dying

***************

Reason is tripe. Love
is tripe. Death is tripe. But they’re
not all the same tripe.

***************

Regret nothing but
hideous calculations
and the shine of boots

***************

Time is a vulgar
sonata, idle discourse
for the hunted deaf

***************

The sun looked upon
nothingness; silent gleam of
the world’s spangled bones

***************

The twelfth day is a
small bandit. Do not pay! Not
to pay is heaven.

The negative man
has no sense of all things on
Earth, the yin and yang

of bad people, a
soft German gentleman, the
arc of the humane

on Mao’s road, pulling
yin in the shame of chaos.
Tipping in June is

inappropriate,
a domain away from blame,
a happiness place.

Be mulberry free,
surviving death to pour long
buds, happy after.

[Original Chinese (auto-detected as Chinese Simplified) via Bing translator]

http://www.humaniverse.net/iching/Tao/Chinese_IChing_index.html

Thai dry world, small to
large; all things pass in the world:
records, genital

mutilation, health,
patrons, gentlemen, villains
—the small extinction

of humanity.
Thai heaven; the Tao of Earth
supports a fiscal

deficit around
the desirability
of heaven. People

after a CD,
pulling with its yin—log out!
Famine, friends die, still

in line, bank shortage,
ever bright, no cease, no blame,
unshakable like

rich British neighbors.
Happiness is in rows, not
therapists or a

wish sister. The mean
city will kill—this is not
untrue Thai info.

[Original Chinese (auto-detected as Chinese Simplified) via Bing translator]

http://www.humaniverse.net/iching/Tao/Chinese_IChing_index.html

Boredom is the dull
reverse side of every Right-
wing paranoid lie

***************

The best thing about
religion is heresy
in a baroque church

***************

Surrealism is
sadomasochism without
the pornography

***************

Marx is sexier
than bourgeois social life; he’s
an erotic dream

***************

Cogito, ergo
something like communism is
human salvation

***************

American love
is a philistine excess
of sensory dread

***************

Contemporary
art is all-out war—culture’s
lunatic death mask

***************

Luxury is the
natural contentment with
artificial things

***************

I am in friendly
harmony with evil: My
mother is for sale

***************

There is only one
good, but it is not in the
field of my knowledge

***************

Having the fewest
wants, I am nearest to the
poverty of God

***************

Old age is wretched;
I’ve had as much as a man
can bear and then some

***************

Beauty infects the
soul with the desire for gold
and wise ignorance

***************

Justice and virtue
are false words; follow not where
they aspire to lead

***************

The proper function
of God is to prolong our
suffering. That’s it.

***************

Every atom of
me is a traitor to my
class and my mother

***************

I’m hungry for the
magnificent glow of your
loins to spill wet eggs

***************

Memories are the
ashes of ecstasy, the
dust of forgiveness

***************

Nature violates
my sanity; it eats at
my inspiration

***************

Moonlight is a sheet
of flame that will burst the world
like a meteor

***************

Cash is the bone and
fame is the dog; go after
that dog with a club

***************

The lavish hand of
charity is limitless . . .
Father the unborn!

***************

He alone is free
who lives with the confusion
of natural sin

***************

True virtue is life
under the direction of
the divine absurd

***************

Whatsoe’er is, is
in music. Without music
there is only God

***************

As you go to war,
be abject, indignant and
love deformity

***************

Salvation is the
greatest pride, far beyond man’s
self-complacency

***************

We feel and know that
happiness is a nuisance;
we strive not to laugh

***************

By common consent,
a humble ignorance is
our greatest desire

***************