Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.
First thought, best thought.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked.
I didn't know the names of the flowers - now my garden is gone.
one must verge on the unknown, write toward the truth hitherto unrecognizable of one’s own sincerity, including the avoidable beauty of doom, shame, and embarrassment, that very area of personal self-recognition,(detailed individual is universal remember) which formal conventions, internalized, keep us from discovering in ourselves and others
Well, while I'm here I'll do the work — and what's the work? To ease the pain of living. Everything else, drunken dumbshow.
Which way will the sunflower turn surrounded by millions of suns?
The earth is, of course, not the geometric center of the universe. But it is certainly the center of our lives.
. . in the harshest days of leaf-bare clanmate turns upon clanmate danger lurks behind familiar faces and one more warrior may be lost forever
You learn more when things go wrong.
Why are empirical questions about how the mind works so weighted down with political and moral and emotional baggage?