Finding Nirvana Is Like Locating Silence.

Cliches Are Truisms And All Truisms Are True

But There's No Joy At All, People Say "oh Well He's Drunk And Happy Let Him Sleep It Off"--the Poor Drunkard Is *crying*--he's Crying For His Mother And Father And Great Brother And Great Friend, He's Crying For Help. (p.111)

The Human Bones Are But Vain Lines Dawdling, The Whole Universe A Blank Mold Of Stars.

No Fear Or Shame In The Dignity Of Your Experience, Language, And Knowledge.

The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones, The Ones Who Are Mad To Live, Mad To Talk, Mad To Be Saved, Desirous Of Everything At The Same Time, The Ones Who Never Yawn Or Say A Commonplace Thing, But Burn, Burn, Burn Like Fabulous Yellow Roman Candles Exploding Like Spiders Across The Stars.