At Length the Fox turnes Monk.
And the whole Bush family, from Texas, should be boiled in poisoned oil.
Breakfast is a personal ritual that can only be properly observed alone, and in a spirit of genuine excess. The food factor should always be massive: four Bloody Marys, two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crepes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon, or corned beef hash with diced chiles, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of Key lime pie, two margaritas, and six lines of the best cocaine for dessert.
The mind of America is seized by a fatal dry rot - and it's only a question of time before all that the mind controls will run amuck in a frenzy of stupid, impotent fear.
I miss Nixon. Compared to these Nazis we have in the White House now, Richard Nixon was a flaming liberal.
Call on God, but row away from the rocks.
I wasn't trying to be an outlaw writer. I never heard of that term; somebody else made it up. But we were all outside the law: Kerouac, Miller, Burroughs, Ginsberg, Kesey; I didn't have a gauge as to who was the worst outlaw. I just recognized allies: my people.
Mr. Knightley, if I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.
I can spend two hours grubbing about in my garden, dazed with pleasure and intent, and it feels like five minutes.
Personally, I don't teach practices as such. The power of the teaching is sufficient without needing to go for any practice.
I can't see my reflection in the waters, I can't speak the sounds that show no pain. I can't hear the echo of my footsteps, or can't remember the sound of my own name.