Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws

Music inflames temperament.

I've noticed that when people are joking they're usually dead serious, and when they're serious, they're usually pretty funny.

In the beginning we were creating our music, ourselves, every night . . . starting with a few outlines, maybe a few words for a song. Sometimes we worked out in Venice, looking at the surf. We were together a lot and it was good times for all of us. Acid, sun, friends, the ocean, and poetry and music.

There may be a time when we'll attend Weather Theaters to recall the sensation of rain.

Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin We could plan a murder Or start a religion.

The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.