Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.

I looked up at the dark sky and prayed to God for a better break in life and a better chance to do something for the little people I loved.

I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work.

Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.

Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.

my karma was to be born in America where nobody has any fun or believes in anything, especially freedom.