It's only through form that we can realize emptiness

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.

For the first time in my life the weather was not something that touched me, that caressed me, froze or sweated me, but became me.

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

I'm not a beatnik. I'm a Catholic.

Goddamn it, FEELING is what I like in art, not CRAFTINESS and the hiding of feelings.

Mind is the Maker, for no reason at all, for all this creation, created to fall.