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

And as far as I can see the world is too old for us to talk about it with our new words.

The silence was an intense roar.

The bus roared through Indiana cornfields that night; the moon illuminated the ghostly gathered husks; it was almost Halloween. I made the acquaintance of a girl and we necked all the way to Indianapolis. She was nearsighted. When we got off to eat I had to lead her by the hand to the lunch counter. She bought my meals; my sandwiches were all gone. In exchange I told her long stories.

I want a blaze of light to flame in me forever in a timeless, dear love of everything. And why should I pretend to want anything else?

Never dreaming, was I, poor Jack Duluoz, that the soul is dead. That from Heaven grace descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail to tell me; no example inside my first and only skin. That love is the heritage, and cousin to death. That the only love can only be the first love, the only death the last, the only life within, and the only word . . . choked forever.

When you've understood this scripture, throw it away. If you can't understand this scripture, throw it away. I insist on your freedom.