Freud is finished, Einstein's next.

In the American soul there is a lonely individual standing in a vast landscape.

The power of the dead is that we think they see us all the time. The dead have a presence. Is there a level of energy composed solely of the dead? They are also in the ground, of course, asleep and crumbling. Perhaps we are what they dream.

Ask yourself this question. Do we have to be humans forever? Consciousness is exhausted. Back now to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field.

It's impossible to write about the Kennedy assassination and its aftermath without taking note of twenty-five years of paranoia which has collected around that event.

The writer is the person who stands outside society, independent of affiliation and independent of influence.

The genius of rock music is that it matched the cultural hysteria around it.