Now I Have Enough Money

You Can't Escape The Past In Paris, And Yet What's So Wonderful About It Is That The Past And Present Intermingle So Intangibly That It Doesn't Seem To Burden.

You Can't Photograph Everything.

I Really Would Like To Stop Working Forever–never Work Again, Never Do Anything Like The Kind Of Work I’m Doing Now–and Do Nothing But Write Poetry And Have Leisure To Spend The Day Outdoors And Go To Museums And See Friends. And I’d Like To Keep Living With Someone — Maybe Even A Man — And Explore Relationships That Way. And Cultivate My Perceptions, Cultivate The Visionary Thing In Me. Just A Literary And Quiet City-hermit Existence.

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

The Rolling Stones Were An Inkling Towards An Appreciation Of The Unity Of Music, Dance And Words. Any Of The Black R&b People Who Had A Stage Show That Involved Dancing, Music And Words Did The Same Thing, Except That I Thought Jagger's Words Were Good, His Music Was Good And His Dancing Was Good. I Spoke To Him About Blake And Tried To Get Him To Sing [william] Blake's The Grey Monk, To Use His Words As Lyrics. He Didn't Do It. In The End, I Did It Myself.