“The big bankers of the world, who practise the terrorism of money, are more powerful than kings and field marshals, even more than the Pope of Rome himself. They never dirty their hands. They kill no-one: they limit themselves to applauding the show.”

“Human rights pale beside the rights of machines. In more and more cities, especially in the great metropolises of the South, people have been banned. Automobiles usurp human space, poison the air, and frequently murder the interlopers who invade their conquered territory -and no one lifts a finger to stop them. Is there a difference between violence that kills by car and that which kills by knife or bullet?" (p.231)”

“Chaplin and Keaton are still the best. They know that there is nothing more serious than laughter, an art demanding infinite work, and that as long as the world revolves, making others laugh is the most splendid of activities. ”

“The NobodiesFleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escapingpoverty: that one magical day good luck will suddenly rain down onthem---will rain down in buckets. But good luck doesn't rain downyesterday, today, tomorrow, or ever. Good luck doesn't even fall in afine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it, even if theirleft hand is tickling, or if they begin the new day with their rightfoot, or start the new year with a change of brooms.The nobodies: nobody's children, owners of nothing. The nobodies: theno ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits, dying through life,screwed every which way.Who are not, but could be.Who don't speak languages, but dialects.Who don't have religions, but superstitions.Who don't create art, but handicrafts.Who don't have culture, but folklore.Who are not human beings, but human resources.Who do not have faces, but arms.Who do not have names, but numbers.Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the policeblotter of the local paper.The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them.”

“Some prisoners spent more than ten years buried in solitary cells the size of coffins, hearing nothing but clanging bars or footsteps in the corridors. . .[they] survived because they could talk to each other by tapping on the wall. In that way they told of dreams and memories, fallings in and out of love; they discussed, embraced, fought; they shared beliefs and beauties, doubts and guilts, and those questions that have no answers. When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because every single one of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others. ”

“In this world of ours, a world of powerful centers and subjugated outposts, there is no wealth that must not be held in some suspicion.”

“The NobodiesWho are not, but could be.Who don't speak languages, but dialects.Who don't have religions, but superstitions.Who don't create art, but handicrafts.Who don't have culture, but folklore.Who are not human beings, but human resources.Who do not have faces, but arms.Who do not have names, but numbers.Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the policeblotter of the local paper.The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them.”