She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost; like drowning in a witches' brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike.

I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.

John Clellon Holmes... and I were sitting around trying to think up the meaning of the Lost Generation and the subsequent existentialism and I said 'You know John, this is really a beat generation'; and he leapt up and said, 'That's it, that's right!'

beautiful insane in the rain

Something that you feel will find its own form.

and nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old

There's wisdom in wine.