Everything Is Holy! Everybody's Holy! Everywhere Is

I Think It Was When I Ran Into Kerouac And Burroughs - When I Was 17 - That I Realized I Was Talking Through An Empty Skull... I Wasn't Thinking My Own Thoughts Or Saying My Own Thoughts.

To Gain Your Own Voice You Have To Forget About Having It Heard.

Visions! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstasies! Gone Down The American River! Dreams! Adorations! Illumnations! Religions! The Whole Boatload Of Sensitive Bullshit!

I Know Too Much And Not Enough

Last Exit To Brooklyn Should Explode Like A Rusty Hellish Bombshell Over America And Still Be Eagerly Read In A Hundred Years.