Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.

Let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious.

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.

The truth of the matter is, you die, all you do is die, and yet you live, yes you live, and that's no Harvard lie.

All the souls to explore! - It's not so necessary to love, really, as it is to settle something deep with all of those who really matter. Love and hate are the same things, differently sifted through personal... pride, or what have you... personal pride or even just personal-ness.

I promise I shall never give up, and that I'll die yelling & laughing.

No time for poetry but exactly what is.