Some of my most neurotically fierce bitterness is the result of realizing how untrue people have become.

How clear the realization one is going mad -- the mind has a silence, nothing happens in the physique, urine gathers in your loins, your ribs contract.

I could hear Dean, blissful and blabbering and frantically rocking. Only a guy who's spent five years in jail can go to such maniacal helpless extremes; beseeching at the portals of the soft source, mad with a completely phsycial realization of the origins of life-bliss; blindly seeking to return the way he came

It was my dream that screwed up, the stupid hearthside idea that it would be wonderful to follow one great red line across America instead of trying various roads and routes.

Walking on water wasn't built in a day.

February dawn -- frost on the path Where I paced all winter.

My aunt once said that the world would never find peace until men fell at their women's feet and asked for forgiveness.