To be modern is to accept that which you should refuse; to adapt to evil rather than to resist it.
To be modern is to have been melted down and poured into somebody else’s mould.
To be modern is to have forgotten how to remember.
To be modern is to be more detached from nature, more helpless, more dependent, more wasteful, more destructive, more short-sighted than your ancestors could ever have imagined, and yet to feel proud of yourself and your era.
To be modern is to prefer artifice to organicity, surface to depth, quantity to quality.
To be modern is to have absorbed so many meaningless facts that there is no more room in your head for meaningful knowledge.
To be modern is to turn your back on common sense and conform to the collective insanity.
To be modern is to be convinced that all change is necessarily good and to refuse to recognise the instinct that tells you otherwise.
To be modern is to be at home both everywhere and nowhere; to be somebody and nobody; to be still alive and yet already dead.