What’s your road, man? – holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It’s an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. Where body how?
Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?
It ain’t whatcha write, it’s the way atcha write it.
And as far as I can see the world is too old for us to talk about it with our new words.
Ah, life is a gate, a way, a path to Paradise anyway, why not live for fun and joy and love or some sort of girl by a fireside, why not go to your desire and LAUGH...
Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.
Be in love with your life, every detail of it.
The best teacher is experience and not through someone’s distorted point of view.
One night I realized that when you give people understanding and encouragement a funny little meek childish look abashes their eyes, no matter what they’ve been doing they weren’t sure it was right – lambies all over the world.
My witness is the empty sky.
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.
I think it’s a lovely hallucination but I love it sorta.
In my medicine cabinet, the winter fly has died of old age.
Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain’t this and that at all?
Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.
Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea.
Don’t drink to get drunk. Drink to enjoy life.
The fact that everybody in the world dreams every night ties all mankind together.
It always makes me proud to love the world somehow- hate’s so easy compared.
Some of my most neurotically fierce bitterness is the result of realizing how untrue people have become.