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I'll tell you this - No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.
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Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is.
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Do you know we are being led to Slaughters by placid admirals & that fat slow generals are getting Obscene on young blood Do you know we are ruled by t.v.
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That’s what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is....Most people love you for who you pretend to be....To keep their love, you keep pretending – performing. You get to love your pretense...It’s true, we’re locked in an image, an act...
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I've noticed that when people are joking they're usually dead serious, and when they're serious, they're usually pretty funny.
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There may be a time when we'll attend Weather Theaters to recall the sensation of rain.
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They can picture love affairs of chemicals and stars, a romance of stones, or the fertility of fire. Strange, fertile correspondences the alchemists sensed in unlikely orders of being. Between men and planets, plants and gestures, words and weather.
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I wouldn't mind dying in a plane crash. It'd be a good way to go. I don't want to die in my sleep, or of old age, or OD... I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I don't want to miss it...
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You live you die and death not ends it.
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What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister? Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn And tied her with fences and dragged her down...
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When you're strange Faces come out of the rain When you're strange No one remembers your name When you're strange.
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Tell them you came, and saw, and looked into my eyes and saw the shadow of the guard receding. Thoughts in time and out of season, the hitchinker stood by the side of the road and levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason. [...] 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.
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Do you know we are ruled by T.V.?
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When you make your peace with authority, you become authority.
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At first flash of Eden, We race down to the sea. Standing there on Freedom's shore. Waiting for the sun...
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My wild words slip into fusion and risk losing the solid ground. So stranger, get wilder still. Probe the highlands.
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In the beginning we were creating our music, ourselves, every night . . . starting with a few outlines, maybe a few words for a song. 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.
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Give form to the passing World. Freeways are a drama.
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I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps 'Oh look at that!' Then - whoosh, and I'm gone... and they'll never see anything like it ever again... and they won't be able to forget me - ever.
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Nobody would stay interested in me if I was normal...
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Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws...
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People are terrified to be set free - they hold on to their chains. They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It's their security... How can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don't really want to be free?
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Out here on the perimeter there are no stars. Out here we is stoned. Immaculate.
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...most of the press were vultures descending on the scene for curious America aplomb. Cameras inside the coffin interviewing worms.