How did Haydn and Mozart produce such vast quantities of formally perfect art? They worked from a perfect formula. In music, Beethoven was the Great Emancipator.

Man was created to complete the horse.

James Joyce buried himself in his great work. _Finnegan's Wake_ is his monument and his tombstone. A dead end.

Home is where, when you have to go there, you probably shouldn't.

I want my body to help fertilize the growth of a cactus or cliff rose or sagebrush or tree.

In the first place you can't see anything from a car; you've got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail you'll begin to see something, maybe. Probably not.

Be loyal to what you love, be true to the earth, fight your enemies with passion and laughter.