How can you admire a human who consciously embraces the bland, the mediocre, and the safe rather than risk the suffering that disappointment can bring?
The price of self-destiny is never cheap, and in certain situations it is unthinkable.
Perhaps the most terrible (or wonderful) thing that can happen to an imaginative youth, aside from the curse (or blessing) of imagination itself, is to be exposed without preparation to the life outsi...
In the haunted house of life, art is the only stair that doesn't creak.
You mean you would have me blow up something just because I didn’t approve of it? What do you think I am, a vandal? A fascist? A fucking critic?
Not surprisingly, the socks remain silent, as was their legal right.
People who sacrifice beauty for efficiency get what they deserve. (Bernard Mickey Wrangle, p 99)
I rather like the smell of absurdity in the morning.
Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer.
Birth and death were easy. It was life that was hard.
There are no such things as synonyms! he practically shouted.
That's the way the mind works: the brain is genetically disposed towards organization, yet if not controlled, will link even the most imagerial fragment to another on the flimsiest pretense and in the...
It's personal freedom, not hundred dollar bills that lights the soul's cigar.
I love myself, he said. But it’s unrequited.
And if your master truly loved you, he would tell you that. In order to escape the bounds of earthly experience, you bind yourself to a master. Bound is bound. If your master really loved you, he woul...
It is better to be small, colorful, sexy, careless, and peaceful, like the flowers, than large, conservative, repressed, fearful, and aggressive, like the thunder lizards; a lesson, by the way, that t...
Now, in the eyes of the stars, men may be no more exalted than beasts, and kingly men no worthier than the wretched.
Soul is not even that Crackerjack prize that God and Satan scuffle over after the worms have all licked our bones. That's why, when we ponder--as sooner or later each of us must--exactly what we ought...
IF THIS TYPEWRITER CAN’T DO IT, then fuck it, it can’t be done.
Sometimes one gets the idea that life thinks it's still living in Paris in the thirties.
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