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.
It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.
Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk - real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.
ah, you always go for the ones who don't really want you
The Four Inevitabilities: 1. Musty Books. 2. Uninteresting Nature. 3. Dull Existence. 4. Blank Nirvana, buy that boy.
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.
i wish the whole world was dead serious about food instead of silly rockets and machines and explosives using everybody's food money to blow their heads off anyway.
I'm Catholic and I can't commit suicide, but I plan to drink myself to death.
Let nature do the freezing and frightening and isolating in this world. let men work and love and fight it off.
I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember because the transitions from life to death and back are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it.
There are worse things than being mad.
don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work.
A scene should be selected by the writer for haunted-ness-of-mind interest. If you're not haunted by something, as by a dream, a vision, or a memory, which are involuntary, you're not interested or even involved.
If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?
Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end.
Now the mountains were getting that pink tinge, I mean the rocks, they were just solid rock covered with the atoms of dust accumulated there since beginningless time. In fact I was afraid of those jagged monstrosities all around and over our heads. "They're so silent!" I said. "Yeah man, you know to me a mountain is a Buddha. Think of the patience, hundreds of thousands of years just sitting there bein perfectly perfectly silent and like praying for all living creatures in that silence and just waitin for us to stop all our frettin and foolin.
"What do you want out of life?" I asked, and I used to ask that all the time of girls.
There is universal substance which is divine substance because where else can it be?
Houses are full of things that gather dust
Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.’ You kill yourself to get to the grave. Especially you kill yourself to get to the grave before you die; and the name of the grave is ‘success’, the name of that grave is hullabullo boom boom horseshit.
What a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.
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.
No matter how you travel, how 'successful' your tour, or foreshortened, you always learn something and learn to change your thoughts.
I took a straight picture that made me look like a thirty-year-old Italian who'd kill anybody who said something against his mother.
Because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.
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