What if someone gave a war and Nobody came?

I know I'm not God, are you? Don't be silly. God? God? Everybody's God? Don't be silly.

The suffering itself is not so bad; it's the resentment against suffering that is the real pain.

The whole blear world of smoke and twisted steel around my head in a railroad car, and my mind wandering past the rust into futurity: I saw the sun go down in a carnal and primeval world, leaving darkness to cover my railroad train because the other side of the world was waiting for dawn.

Everybody's serious but me.

The closet door is open for me, where I left it, since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.

The Rolling Stones were an inkling towards an appreciation of the unity of music, dance and words. Any of the black R&B people who had a stage show that involved dancing, music and words did the same thing, except that I thought Jagger's words were good, his music was good and his dancing was good. I spoke to him about Blake and tried to get him to sing [William] Blake's The Grey Monk, to use his words as lyrics. He didn't do it. In the end, I did it myself.