Visual art and writing don't exist on an aesthetic hierarchy that positions one above the other, because each is capable of things the other can't do at all. Sometimes one picture is equal to 30 pages of discourse, just as there are things images are completely incapable of communicating.

Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is.

Everything Jack says is to be taken with considerable reserve.

I bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. Whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink.

You must learn to exist with no religion, no country, no allies. You must learn to live alone in silence.

There's a boy across the river with an ass like a peach; alas I was no swimmer and lost my Clementine.

Like many nonconformist and beat generation writers, William S. Burroughs takes the outcasts of society as his theme.