Good mescaline comes on slow. The first hour is all waiting, then about halfway through the second hour you start cursing the creep who burned you, because nothing is happening...and then ZANG!

The downward spiral of Dumbness in America is about to hit a new low.

Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

I learned a long time ago that reality was much weirder than anyone's imagination.

Human beings are the only creatures on earth that claim a God and the only thing that behaves like it hasn't got one.

Sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind but falling in love and not getting arrested.

America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.

So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?

Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing.

Hope rises and dreams flicker and die. Love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of yesterday. Life is beautiful and living is pain.

Yes sir, the fish was left in place of the crystal ball. It's been bagged and tagged for analysis.”Great. Now we have another red herring on our hands.

Where flowers degenerate man cannot live.

There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, but few of us are willing to do little things.

The rare few, who, early in life have rid themselves of the friendship of the many.

In this ridiculously polarized, obstructionist world, the operating principle should be, Let's get something done. Not, Let's freeze everything.

Nothing can take the place of true love.

When you are through with the blues, you've got nothing to rest on.

Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.

The art form is to become one with the hurdle, to make it your friend, and I embraced that process.

The leaves let go, the seeds let go, and I must let go sometimes, too, and cast my lot with another of nature’s imperfect but tenacious survivors.