“Sometimes fantasies are better than life.”

I wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn’t hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me?

They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

I’m partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing.

I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.

I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.

This morning when I left Mom’s parting words were, “Come straight home after school.” Wow! Like I’m going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn’t sound so bad at that.

I’m afraid to live and afraid to die.

Sometimes I think we’re all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don’t like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don’t want to be a robot!

one day I’ll be old, without ever having really been young

I guess I’ll never measure up to anyone’s expectations. I surely don’t measure up to what I’d like to be.

I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs–which shows how screwed up this world really is!

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren’t even physical?

I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

I can’t believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it’s only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

Nobody’s talking to me, but nobody’s hassling me either. I guess you can’t have everything.

I see stuff sometimes and have a good laugh.

After four years at the United Nations I sometimes yearn for the peace and tranquility of a political convention.

I write till the end at least a draft of a play or a novel; but sometimes,

In fact, sometimes the only way they’ll ever exist is if you make them yourself.

Sometimes my brain writes a check that reality can’t cash.

It’s been hard for me to not write, and that’s the only process I can speak to I guess, it’s so compulsive and I need to do it all the time that sometimes I make myself not do it so I can actually tend to my life.

Sometimes you just can’t get rid of a bomb!

These objects were sometimes just 12 inches across yet needed enough detail to fill a movie screen.