It's pretty amazing to see a guy, while steering at the wheel, suddenly raise his little 300 dollar German camera with one hand and snap something that's on the move in front of him, and through an unwashed windshield at that. (On the road with Robert Frank, 1958)

Details are the Life of Prose.

An awful realization that I have been fooling myself all my life thinking there was a next thing to do to keep the show going and actually I'm just a sick clown and so is everybody else

Life must be rich and full of loving--it's no good otherwise, no good at all, for anyone.

Prison is where you promise yourself the right to live.

I felt free and therefore I was free.

Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain't this and that at all?