When you start separating people from their rivers, what have you got? Bureaucracy!

I'm writing this book because we're all going to die.

I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference.

Burroughs is the greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift.

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.

ah, you always go for the ones who don't really want you

I'd also gone through an entire year of celibacy based on my feeling that lust was the direct cause of birth which was the direct cause of suffering and death.