You’d be surprised how little I knew even up to yesterday.
Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank traced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives.
I didn’t know what to say. I felt like crying, Goddammit everybody in the world wants an explanation for your acts and for your very being.
Man, wow, there’s so many things to do, so many things to write! How to even begin to get it all down and without modified restraints and all hung-up on like literary inhibitions and grammatical fears...
It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.
My whole wretched life swam before my weary eyes, and I realized no matter what you do it’s bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.
Don’t tell them too much about your soul. They’re waiting for just that.
Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.
I’d sleep and forget it; I had my own life, my own sad and ragged life forever.
So therefore I dedicate myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.
Are we fallen angels who didn’t want to believe that nothing is nothing and so were born to lose our loved ones and dear friends one by one and finally our own life, to see it proved?
I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.
It’s okay, girl, we’ll make it till the sun goes down forever. And until then what you got to lose but the losing? We’re fallen angels who didn’t believe that nothing means nothing.
Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.
Finding Nirvana is like locating silence.
It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved.
You can’t live in this world but there’s nowhere else to go.
My eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears.