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

You can't live in this world but there's nowhere else to go.

Goddamn it, FEELING is what I like in art, not CRAFTINESS and the hiding of feelings.

Life must be rich and full of loving--it's no good otherwise, no good at all, for anyone.

The truth of the matter is, you die, all you do is die, and yet you live, yes you live, and that's no Harvard lie.

What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?” She didn’t know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.