To Vik Lovell who told me dragons did not exist, then led me to their lairs.

The frontiers we broke into in the '60s are still largely unexplored.

The flock gets sight of a spot of blood on some chicken and they all go to peckin' at it, see, till they rip the chicken to shreds, blood and bones and feathers. But usually a couple of the flock gets spotted in the fracas, then it's their turn. And a few more gets spots and gets pecked to death, and more and more. Oh, a peckin' party can wipe out the whole flock in a matter of a few hours, buddy, I seen it. A mighty awesome sight. The only way to prevent it—with chickens—is to clip blinders on them. So's they can't see.

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.

You don't plow under the corn because the seed was planted with a neighbor's shovel.

I've never seen crack or a lot of these new drugs. Don't know anything about them. I don't know what they do for you, or whether they do anything good for you or not. But I do still have a lot of faith in the spiritual purity of LSD and pot.

I had to keep on acting deaf if i wanted to hear at all.