I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of the night.

Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

None of us understand what we're doing, but we do beautiful things anyway.

There should be no distinction between what we write down, and what we really know.

I don't think there is any truth. There are only points of view.

Who can live with this Consciousness and not wake frightened at sunrise?

It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is broken now.