I'd rather hop freights around the country and cook my food out of tin cans over wood fires, than be rich and have a home or work.

Eager for bread and love.

Let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious.

Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.

They spent all week saving pennies and went out Saturdays to spend fifty bucks in three hours.

In our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever...listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, It is all one vast awakened thing. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended.

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.