Everything I wrote was true because I believed what I saw.

Lying mouth to mouth, kiss to kiss in the pillow dark, loin to loin in unbelievable surrendering sweetness so distant from all our mental fearful abstractions it makes you wonder why men have termed God antisexual somehow (p. 148)

We are nothing. - Tomorrow we may be die. We are nothing. - You and me.

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.

We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked at each other for the last time.

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

Never mistake talking about writing for actual writing.