This is the kind of life I've had. Drunk, and in charge of a bicycle, as an Irish police report once put it. Drunk with life, that is, and not knowing where off to next. But you're on your way before...
They read the long afternoon through, while the cold November rain fell from the sky upon the quiet house.
They got Indian vision and can sight back further than you and me will ever sight ahead.
They came to study the dreadful vulgarity of this imaginary Mass Man they pretend to hate. But they're fascinated with the snake-pit.
These essays were written at various times over a thirty-year period, to express special discoveries, to serve special needs. But they all echo the same truths of explosive self-revelation and contino...
There where hundreds of graves. There where hundreds of women. There were hundreds of daughters. There were hundreds of sons. And hundreds upon hundreds upon thousands of candles. The whole graveyard...
There was a crash like the falling parts of a dream fashioned out of warped glass, mirrors, and crystal prisms.
There are billions of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood.
The multicolored or grey lights touching their faces, but never really touching them...
The merry-go-round was running, yes, but...It was running backward.The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbal...
The form does not matter. Content is everything.
The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam....
The bombers crossed the sky and crossed the sky over the house, gasping, murmuring, whistling like an immense, invisible fan, circling in emptiness.
The blows of his heart might jar him loose, crash him down, but he was glad to hear them, know himself alive.
The Official was bending over his desk, staring at the sergeant. May I ask you a question?Yes.Have you ever thought you were Christ?I can't say that I have. But I have considered that God was good to...
The Animal does not question lif. It lives. It's very reason for living is life; it enjoys and relishes life.
That’s the good part of dying; when you’ve got nothing to lose, you run any risk you want.
That's the great secret of creativity. You treat ideas like cats: you make them follow you. If you try to approach a cat and pick it up, hell, it won't let you do it. You've got to say, Well, to hell...
That's life for you, said MacDunn. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy what...
Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time,