The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments.

Way far back in the beginning of the world was the whirlwind warning that we could all be blown away like chips and cry- Men with tired eyes realize it now, and wait to deform and decay- with maybe they have the power of love yet in their hearts just the same, I just don't know what that word means anymore- All I want is an ice cream cone

The whole mad swirl of everything that was to come began then.

This is the story of America. Everybody's doing what they think they're supposed to do.

Something good will come out of all things yet — And it will be golden and eternal just like that.

I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved.