It's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies

So therefore I dedicate myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.

We were all delighted, we all realized we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.

"What do you want out of life?" I asked, and I used to ask that all the time of girls. "I don't know," she said. "Just wait on tables and try to get along." She yawned. I put my hand over her mouth and told her not to yawn. I tried to tell her how excited I was about life and the things we could do together; saying that, and planning to leave Denver in two days. She turned away wearily. We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when He made life so sad.

This was really the way my whole road experience began, and the things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell.

If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?

Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy