What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister? Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn And tied her with fences and dragged her down

All our lives we sweat and save, Building for a shallow grave.

I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos-especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom... Rather than starting inside, I start outside and reach the mental through the physical.

Morning found us unaware, noon burn gold into our hair, at night we swim the laughin sea, where will we be?

I wonder why people like to believe I'm high all the time. I guess . . . maybe they think someone else can take their trip for them.

I'm kind of hooked to the game of art and literature; my heroes are artists and writers.

We're reaching for death on the end of a candle We're trying for something that's already found us