Would you really like to live in a society where you have no responsibility and no freedom, no choice, only the false option of obedience to the law, or disobedience followed by punishment? Would you really want to go live in a prison?

Little mirrors were attached to the front of their cars, at which they glanced to see where they had been; then they stared ahead again. I had thought that only beetles had this delusion of Progress.

It's a rare gift, to know where you need to be, before you've been to all the places you don't need to be.

Great artists make the roads; good teachers and good companions can point them out. But there ain't no free rides, baby.

The children of the revolution are always ungrateful, and the revolution must be grateful that it is so.

I think there is no way to write about being alone. To write is to tell something to somebody to communicate to others. . . . Solitude is noncommunication, the absence of others, the presence of a self sufficient to itself.

To make a thief, make an owner; to create crime, create laws.