"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’"

Jack Kerouac, On the Road

"Most of the dandelions had changed from suns into moons."
Vladimir Nabokov


Feel it—but remember, millennia have felt it—
the sea and the beasts and the mindless stars
wrestle it down today as ever—

think it—but remember, the most exalted
are wallowing in their own bow-wave,
are no more than the yellow of the buttercup,
while other colors too play their game—

remember and endure the hour,
there was never one like it, all are like it,
people and angels and cherubim,
black-winged, bright-eyed,
none was yours—
was ever yours.

Gottfried Benn

"We are pieces of ancient Earth, bits of sacred story soaked in intellect and dirt."

Oak Chezar

“A thousand dreams within me softly burn:
from time to time my heart is like some oak
whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.”

Arthur Rimbaud



Beautiful thing
Strums each chord
Then starts to sing
In a blushing voice,
I tap the beat on your thighs
My Darling, Darling
And then a small kiss
Forever, never