It All Ends In Tears Anyway.

I Saw That My Life Was A Vast Glowing Empty Page And I Could Do Anything I Wanted.

The Only Alternative To Sleeping Out, Hopping Freights, And Doing What I Wanted, I Saw In A Vision Would Be To Just Sit With A Hundred Other Patients In Front Of A Nice Television Set In A Madhouse, Where We Could Be "supervised."

I'd Sleep And Forget It; I Had My Own Life, My Own Sad And Ragged Life Forever.

Paris Is A Woman But London Is An Independent Man Puffing His Pipe In A Pub.

Never Dreaming, Was I, Poor Jack Duluoz, That The Soul Is Dead. That From Heaven Grace Descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail To Tell Me; No Example Inside My First And Only Skin. That Love Is The Heritage, And Cousin To Death. That The Only Love Can Only Be The First Love, The Only Death The Last, The Only Life Within, And The Only Word . . . Choked Forever.