It is raining today in the mountains. It is a warm green rain with love in its pockets for spring is here, and does not dream of death. — Richard Brautigan, from “The Return of the Rivers,” The Return of the Rivers. (Inferno Press May 1957 )
Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist. — George Carlin
And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep. — Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five. (Delacorte 1969)
Quoth the doorbell with its silence, no comment at this time. ― Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake. (Vintage Books; New Ed edition August 1, 1998) Originally published 1997.
Beautiful, sobbing high-geared fucking and then to lie silently like deer tracks in the freshly-fallen snow beside the one you love. That’s all. — Richard Brautigan, “Deer Tracks,” Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt. (Delacorte Pr January 1979)
And so it goes… ― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (Delacorte 1969)
As the bruises fade, the lightning aches. Last week, making love, you bit me. Now the blue and dark have gone and yellow bruises grow toward pale daffodils, then paler to become until my body is all my own and what that ever got me. —Richard Brautigan, “As the Bruises Fade, the Lightning Aches,” Rommel… Continue reading Richard Brautigan