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

But yet, but yet, woe, woe unto those who think that the Beat Generation means crime, delinquency, immorality, amorality ... woe unto those who attack it on the grounds that they simply don't understand history and the yearning of human souls ... woe in fact unto those who make evil movies about the Beat Generation where innocent housewives are raped by beatniks! ... woe unto those who spit on the Beat Generation, the wind'll blow it back.

It’s not that I can’t fall in love. It’s really that I can’t help falling in love with too many things all at once. So, you must understand why I can’t distinguish between what’s platonic and what isn’t, because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

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

It was all completely serious, all completely hallucinated, all completely happy.

The cause of the world's woe is birth, the cure of the world's woe is a bent stick.

No time for poetry but exactly what is.