he threw up his hands and wrote the Universe dont exist and died to prove it
I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.
I know I'm not God, are you? Don't be silly. God? God? Everybody's God? Don't be silly.
Sanity - a trick of agreement
We love to be hurt and we love to have our unhealing wounds opened and reopened again: we sit staring in the mirror of art, fascinated by our own deformities.
The real America that Whitman proclaimed and Thoreau decoded.