Jack Kerouac influenced me quite a bit as a writer... in the Arab sense that the enemy of my enemy was my friend.

I have warned many times about the guaranteed dangers of betting with your heart instead of your head - big darkness, soon come - but every once in a while you get a fair chance to have it both ways, and the annual NCAA basketball Tournament is one of them.

All political power comes from the barrel of either guns, pussy, or opium pipes, and people seem to like it that way.

All we have to do is get out and vote, while it's still legal, and we will wash those crooked warmongers out of the White House.

We can't stop here, this is bat country!

With the truth so dull and depressing, the only working alternative is wild bursts of madness and filigree.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.