And before me was the great raw bulge and bulk of my American continent; somewhat far across, gloomy, crazy New York was throwing up its cloud of dust and brown steam. There is something brown and holy about the East; and California is white like washlines and emptyheaded - at least that's what I thought then.

He had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.

cliches are truisms and all truisms are true

Ah, life is a gate, a way, a path to Paradise anyway, why not live for fun and joy and love or some sort of girl by a fireside, why not go to your desire and LAUGH.

Your Buddhism has made you mean Ray and makes you even afraid to take your clothes off for a simple healthy orgy

What a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.

Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain't this and that at all?