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

And with joy you realize for the first time "Thinking's just like not thinking — So I don't have to think any more".

You seek identity in the midst of indistinguishab le chaos, in sprawling nameless reality.

Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.

And he had a nice home in Ohio with wife, daughter, Christmas tree, two cars, garage, lawn, lawnmower, but he couldn't enjoy any of it because he really wasn't free. It was sadly true.

If you tell a true story, you can't be wrong.

The dream is already ended and we're already awake in the golden eternity.