I was having a wonderful time and the whole world opened up before me because I had no dreams.

But night would come and with it the mountain moon and the lake would be moon - laned and I'd go out and sit in the grass and meditate facing west, wishing there were a Personal God in all this impersonal matter.

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

The truth of the matter is we don't understand our women; we blame on them and it's all our fault.

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.

Who can leap the world's ties and sit with me among white clouds?

I took a straight picture that made me look like a thirty-year-old Italian who'd kill anybody who said something against his mother.