The bus roared through Indiana cornfields that night; the moon illuminated the ghostly gathered husks; it was almost Halloween. I made the acquaintance of a girl and we necked all the way to Indianapolis. She was nearsighted. When we got off to eat I had to lead her by the hand to the lunch counter. She bought my meals; my sandwiches were all gone. In exchange I told her long stories.

Something great is about to happen to me: I'm about to love somebody very much.

The only truth is music.

If you own a rug you own too much.

It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.

Ah Japhy you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can't fall off a mountain.

The Four Inevitabilities: 1. Musty Books. 2. Uninteresting Nature. 3. Dull Existence. 4. Blank Nirvana, buy that boy.