“A man searching for paradise lost can seem a fool to those who never sought the other world.”

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

Someday, who knows, we might conquer death, disease and war.

We don’t plan theatrics. We hardly ever know which set we’ll play.

There’s the know. And there’s the unknown. And what separates the two is the door, and that’s what i wanta be. Ahh wanna be th’ dooooooooorrr.

We’re reaching for death on the end of a candle We’re trying for something that’s already found us

Why does my mind circle around you? Why do planets wonder what it would be like to be you?

All your soft wild promises were words, birds, endlessly in flight.

Sometimes we worked out in Venice, looking at the surf. We were together a lot and it was good times for all of us. Acid, sun, friends, the ocean, and poetry and music.

There’s nothing wrong with being a large mammal.

When you make your peace with authority, you become authority.

Is everybody in?… Is everybody in?… Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin…

The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask.

I like people who shake other people up and make them feel uncomfortable.

I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that seems to have no meaning.

All our lives we sweat and save, Building for a shallow grave.

You’ve seen your birth, your life and death. You might recall all the rest. Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?