I clearly saw the skeleton underneath all this show of personality what is left of a man and all his pride but bones?

I looked up at the dark sky and prayed to God for a better break in life and a better chance to do something for the little people I loved.

And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.

Go moan for man. It's the pathos of people that gets us down, all the lovers in this dream.

We all agree it's too big to keep up with, that we're surrounded by life, that we'll never understand it, so we center it all in by swigging Scotch from the bottle and when it's empty I run out of the car and buy another one, period.

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.