You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.

Can't say it often enough — change your hair, change your life.

Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.

A screaming comes across the sky.

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil once in a while, it makes no more or less sense.

I dream that I have found us both again, With spring so many strangers' lives away, And we, so free, Out walking by the sea, With someone else's paper words to say.... They took us at the gates of green return, Too lost by then to stop, and ask them why- Do children meet again? Does any trace remain, Along the superhighways of July?