A passage from "The Distaste"

You are not paying attention, you are just paying taxes, and you shall pay them with your life, for your life will be no work of art, it shall be only work and no art. No experience of the truly sublime shall ever touch or change you, your knowledge of your profound unity and uniqueness will be absent. Your abstinence from the truth shall bring you great punishment, yet I will not be the one to punish or harm you, to hammer or insult you, to choke or humiliate you – I can only write and warn, write and fight and die writing, writhing at the mouth.

I will write now of censorship and freedom of speech: these concepts do not mean a thing to the elements. A fire, a flood, a glacial event, a pest – and the dice are rolled for human memory. Ask a river to leave your symphonies untouched and it will not care. These gods are real: they make the water kill. No effort seems convenient, no enterprise sufficiently protected, the compromise of mortality becomes necessary.

But there are those who fight and spit back at death, as if lacking the conviction of finality. It is difficult indeed to say whether it shall be they who shall prevail, whether their deeds shall be retained in future esteem, or whether their efforts will have been vain, for so unfathomable a concern can never meet the satisfaction of complete truth. The perceived human reason is no stationary eventuality, nor might it be exempt from regression at any given time, hence the evolutionary nature of language, anarchic in appearance, perceivable only – as many processes – only through hindsight and distance.