Good mescaline comes on slow. The first hour is all waiting, then about halfway through the second hour you start cursing the creep who burned you, because nothing is happening...and then ZANG!

On some nights, I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.

I measure my life in pages. If I have pages at dawn, it's been a good night.

The Sixties were an era of extreme reality. I miss the smell of tear gas. I miss the fear of getting beaten.

Rush Limbaugh is a lame professional swine, and he makes a good living at it. He is like a hired geek in some traveling backwoods carnival - the freaks who bite the heads off chickens - but Limbaugh is a modernized geek who thinks he can bite the heads off of people.

We have bigger things to brood on and enormous reasons for wallowing in terminal craziness until we finally hit bottom.

I miss Nixon. Compared to these Nazis we have in the White House now, Richard Nixon was a flaming liberal.