No one expected me. Everything awaited me.

Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. It leads to each other. We become ourselves.

I don't fuck much with the past but I fuck plenty with the future.

Freedom is...the right to write the wrong words.

I learned from him that often contradiction is the clearest way to truth

I imagined myself as Frida to Diego, both muse and maker. I dreamed of meeting an artist to love and support and work with side by side.

What will happen to us?" I asked. "There will always be us," he answered.

Everything distracted me, but most of all myself.

I refuse to believe that Hendrix had the last possessed hand, that Joplin had the last drunken throat, that Morrison had the last enlightened mind.

Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine.

I have loved books all my life. There is nothing more beautiful in our material world than the book.

I don't think," he insisted. "I feel.

Who can know the heart of youth but youth itself?

So my last image was as the first. A sleeping youth cloaked in light, who opened his eyes with a smile of recognition for someone who had never been a stranger.

Make your interactions with people transformational, not just transactional.

We went our separate ways, but within walking distance of one another.

I immersed myself in books and rock 'n' roll, the adolescent salvation ...

I had no proof that I had the stuff to be an artist, though I hungered to be one.

In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. In life may you proceed with balance and stealth. For nothing is more precious than the life force and may the love of that force guide you as you go.

I thought to myself that he contained a whole universe that I had yet to know.

We wanted, it seemed, what we already had, a lover and a friend to create with, side by side. To be loyal, yet be free.

Why can't I write something that would awake the dead? That pursuit is what burns most deeply.

Both of them were ahead of their time, but they didn't live long enough to see the time they were ahead of.

I understood that in this small space of time we had mutually surrendered our loneliness and replaced it with trust.

Later he would say that the Church led him to God, and LSD led him to universe. He also said that art led him to the devil, and sex kept him with the devil.

Finally, by the sea, where God is everywhere, I gradually calmed.

We were as Hansel and Gretel and we ventured out into the black forest of the world.

Writing is not some quiet, closet act.

Those who have suffered understand suffering and therefore extend their hand.

I wish I could just project everything on the paper,

What is the soul? What color is it? I suspected my soul, being mischievous, might slip away while I was dreaming and fail to return. I did my best not to fall asleep, to keep it inside of me where it belonged.

To be an artist is to enter into competition with god.

Got to lose control before you take control.

We never had any children," he said ruefully. "Our work was our children.

Paths that cross will cross again.

But secretly I knew I had been transformed, moved by the revalation that human beings create art, that to be an artist was to see what others could not.

Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire.

We learned we wanted too much. We could only give from the perspective of who we were and what we had. Apart, we were able to see with even greater clarity that we didn’t want to be without each other.

Within that moment was trust, compassion, and our mutual sense of irony. He was carrying death within him and I was carrying life. We were both aware of that, I know.

Angel looks down at him and says, “Oh, pretty boy, Can't you show me nothing but surrender?

I hated the soup and felt little for the can.

It seemed as if the whole of the world was slowly being stripped of innocence. Or maybe I was seeing a little too clearly.

I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates ...

In the war of magic and religion, is magic ultimately the victor? Perhaps priest and magician were once one, but the priest, learning humility in the face of God, discarded the spell for prayer.

Vowels are the most illuminated letters in the alphabet. Vowels are the colors and souls of poetry and speech. (1976 Penthouse interview)

Nothing can be truly replicated. Not a love, not a jewel, not a single line.

He contained, even at an early age, a stirring and the desire to stir.

He took twelve pictures that day. Within a few days he showed me the contact sheet. "This one has the magic," he said. When I look at it now, I never see me. I see us.

How is it that we never completely comprehend our love for someone until they’re gone?

People have the power to redeem the work of fools.