But the more I read... after awhile... I begin to find they were all writing about the same thing, this same dull old here-today-gone-tomorrow scene... Shakespeare, Milton, Matthew Arnold, even Baudelaire, even this cat whoever he was that wrote Beowulf... the same scene for the same reasons and to the same end, whether it was Dante with his pit or Baudelaire with his pot... the same dull old scene...

There's something about taking a plow and breaking new ground. It gives you energy.

There are going to be times when we can't wait for somebody. Now, you're either on the bus or off the bus. If you're on the bus, and you get left behind, then you'll find it again. If you're off the bus in the first place — then it won't make a damn.

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.

When you love someone it is forever, or it was never really love at all.

What can you pay for the way a man lives? What can you pay for what a man is?

There are going to be times when we can't wait for somebody. Now, you're either on the bus or off the bus.