February dawn -- frost on the path where i paced all winter.
To the children and the innocent it's all the same.
It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.
Believe that the world is an ethereal flower, and ye live.
It's only through form that we can realize emptiness.
Ray, what you got to do is go climb a mountain...
And then we’ll all go off to sweet life, ‘cause now is the time and we all know time!
Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea.
America is a lonely crock of shit...
That's the story of my life rich or poor and mostly poor and truly poor.
Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy.
We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.
Hateful bitch of a world, it wouldn't ever last.
Bein crazy is the least of my worries.
You guys are going somewhere or just going?
All of life is a foreign country.
I'd rather be thin than famous but i'm fat paste that in your broadway show
Rocks are space, and space is illusion.
Paris is a woman but london is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.
I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all.
Be in love with your life. Every minute of it.
Go moan for man. It's the pathos of people that gets us down, all the lovers in this dream.
Mind is the maker, for no reason at all, for all this creation, created to fall.
It was all completely serious, all completely hallucinated, all completely happy.