As an old junk pusher told me, ‘Watch whose money you pick up.’
The way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the Indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits.
Once the law starts asking questions, there’s no stopping them.
You can’t fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal.
Time is what death needs to grow people in.
Intelligence and war are games, perhaps the only meaningful games left. If any player becomes too proficient, the game is threatened with termination.
A junky runs on junk time. When the junk is cut off, the clock runs down and stops. All he can do is hang on and wait for non-junky time to start. A sick junky has no escape from external time, no place to go. He can only wait.
It is to be remembered that the origin of all the arts-music, painting and writing-is magical and evocative; and that magic is always used to obtain some definite result.
I think the ideal situation for a family is to be completely incestuous.
If you build a good name, eventually, that name will be its own currency.
The idea that anyone can use drugs and escape a horrible fate is anathema to these idiots. I predict in the near future right-wingers will use drug hysteria as a pretext to set up an international police apparatus.
The most deadly picture is a picture of nothing at all. The colors are there, but there is no image, nothing.
Modern man has lost the option of silence.
Now what sort of man or woman or monster would stroke a centipede I have ever seen? And here is my good big centipede! If such a man exists, I say kill him without more ado. He is a traitor to the human race.
The Planet drifts to random insect doom.
Many of my characters first came through to me as voices. That’s why I use a tape recorder.
Revolution in America begins in books and music, then waits for political operatives to ‘implement changes after the fact.’
How long does it take man to realize that he cannot want what he wants? You have to live in hell to see heaven.
If you weren’t surprised by your life you wouldn’t be alive. Life is surprise.
Jesus Christ said ‘by their fruits ye shall know them,’ not by their disclaimers.