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.

Something great is about to happen to me: I'm about to love somebody very much.

No time for poetry but exactly what is.

Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.

My eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears.

Rocks are space, and space is illusion.

The empty blue sky of space says 'All this comes back to me, then goes again, and comes back again, then goes again, and I don't care, it still belongs to me