What the Chronics are - or most of us - are machines with flaws inside that can't be repaired, flaws born in, or flaws beat in over so many years of the guy running head-on into solid things that by the time the hospital found him he was bleeding rust in some vacant lot.

It's time to move on to the next step in the psychedelic revolution. We've reached a certain point, but we're not moving any more.

Man is certain of nothing but his ability to fail. It is the deepest faith we have, and the unbeliever- the blasphemer, the dissenter- will stimulate in us the most righteous of furies.

I'd rather be a lightning rod than a seismograph.

Ocean, Ocean I'll beat you in the end.

I'm so insane, I voted for Eisenhower. Oh yeah, well I'm so insane, I voted for Eisenhower TWICE!

All I know is this: nobody's very big in the first place, and it looks to me like everybody spends their whole life tearing everybody else down.