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She is a brittle, relentless manipulator with few stable core values who shuffles through useful personalities like a card shark ("Cue the tears!"). Forget all her little gold crosses: Hillary's real god is political expediency. Do Americans truly want this hard-bitten Machiavellian back in the White House? Day one will just be more of the same.
--
On Hillary Rodham Clinton, in "Camille Paglia on Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, Iran and More" at Salon.com (8 January 2008)

 

Camille Paglia

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Americans are so individualistic, they do not realize their individualism is a communally derived value. The American I is deconstructed for me by Paolo, an architect who was raised in Bologna: "You Americans are not truly individualistic, you merely are lonely. In order to be individualistic, one must have a strong sense of oneself within a group." (The "we" is a precondition for saying "I.") Americans spend all their lives looking for a community: a chatroom, a church, a support group, a fetish magazine, a book club, a class action suit... illusions become real when we think they are real and act accordingly. Because Americans thought themselves free of plural pronouns, they began to act as free agents, thus to recreate history. Individuals drifted away from tribe or color or 'hood or hometown or card of explanation, where everyone knew who they were... Americans thus extended the American community by acting so individualistically, so anonymously.

 

Richard Rodriguez

 

"When Hillary had the class reunion at the White House, there were 325 of us there," said Catherine S. Gidlow, a lawyer in St. Louis. "I turned to someone and said, 'I think there are 324 of us here who feel like failures,' and she said, 'No, I think there are 325 of us who feel like failures.'"

 

Hillary Clinton

 

"Hey," he'd said, "it's me. Case."
The old eyes regarding him out of their dark webs of wrinkled flesh.
"Ah," Ratz had said, at last, "the artiste."
The bartender shrugged. "I came back."
The man shook his massive, stubbled head. "Night City is not a place one returns to, artiste," he said, swabbing the bar in front of Case with a filthy cloth, the pink manipulator whining.

 

William Ford Gibson

 

They'll drop a cage into the water, and the shark'll be. like, "What you doin' down 'ere? What you f**kin' doin' down 'ere?" And they'll get a bit of meat on a stick and go "Oy! Wanker! Bleurgh!" And they’ll go "Oh, is that for me?" [pretends to shove meat in shark’s mouth] "You f**kin’..."

 

Lee Evans

 

"Indeed Bugg. is it because, do you think, at the human core, we are naught but liars and cheats?"
"Probably."
"With no hope of ever overcoming our instinctive nastiness?"
"Hard to say. How have we done so far?"

 

Steven Erikson