Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.
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... burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles.
My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.
Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end.
I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.
All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land.
Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.
Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?
All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together.
You can't teach the old maestro a new tune.
A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.
Accept loss forever.
My manners, abominable at times, can be sweet.
Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.
Mankind is like dogs, not gods - as long as you don't get mad they'll bite you - but stay mad and you'll never be bitten. Dogs don't respect humility and sorrow.
I really hate to write.
All of life is a foreign country.
It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.