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

At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night.

Down in Denver, all I did was die.

In my medicine cabinet, the winter fly has died of old age.

Let nature do the freezing and frightening and isolating in this world. let men work and love and fight it off.

I don't wanta hear all your word descriptions of words words words you made up all winter, man I wanta be enlightened by actions.

I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy; and I picked on the world. And of course I was right.