“Clock hands move noonward”

“I saw the best minds of my generation who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade.”

“Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity!Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!”

“Forty feet long sixty feet high hotelCovered with old gray for buzzing fliesEye like mango flowing orange pusEars Durga people vomiting in their sleepGot huge legs a dozen buses move inside CalcuttaSwallowing mouthfuls of dead ratsMangy dogs bark out of a thousand breastsGarbage pouring from its ass behind alleysAlways pissing yellow Hooghly waterBellybutton melted Chinatown brown puddlesCoughing lungs Sound going down the sewerNose smell a big gray BidiHeart bumping and crashing over tramcar tracksCovered with a hat of cloudy ironSuffering water buffalo head loweredTo pull the huge cart of year uphill”

“Tell your secrets. [In reply to the question "How does one become a prophet?"]”

“Absolutes are Coercion.Change is absolute.”

“We talk about our assholes. We talk about our cocks. We talk about who we fucked last night, or who we’re gonna fuck tomorrow…Everyone tells one’s friends about that, right? So the question is, what happens when you make a distinction between what you tell your friends and what you tell your muse? The trick is to break down that distinction, to approach your muse as frankly as you would talk to yourself, or to your friends. It’s the ability to commit to writing, to write the same way you are.”