The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.

The closer you get to real matter, rock air fire and wood, boy, the more spiritual the world is.

Don't use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.

I can't think of anybody...who knows the sum and substance of what I know and feel and cry about in my secret self all the time when I don't feel strong, the sorrows of time and personality, and can therefore on all levels make it all the way with me

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

I don't wanta hear all your word descriptions of words words words you made up all winter, man I wanta be enlightened by actions.

Man lowers his head and lunges into civilization, forgetting the days of his infancy when he sought truth in a snowflake or a stick. Man forgets the wisdom of the child.