Scientist Alone Is True Poet.

There Should Be No Distinction Between What We Write Down, And What We Really Know.

The Whole Blear World Of Smoke And Twisted Steel Around My Head In A Railroad Car, And My Mind Wandering Past The Rust Into Futurity: I Saw The Sun Go Down In A Carnal And Primeval World, Leaving Darkness To Cover My Railroad Train Because The Other Side Of The World Was Waiting For Dawn.

Tell Your Secrets. [in Reply To The Question "how Does One Become A Prophet?"]

If I Had A Soul I Sold It For Pretty Words If I Had A Body I Used It Up Spurting My Essence Allen Ginsberg Warns You Dont Follow My Path To Extinction

The Soul Is Innocent And Immortal, It Should Never Die Ungodly In An Armed Madhouse.