O, ah! The awareness of emptiness brings forth a heart of compassion!
Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.
Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there.
When the mind is exhausted of images, it invents its own.
Stay together learn the flowers go light
Three-fourths of philosophy and literature is the talk of people trying to convince themselves that they really like the cage they were tricked into entering.
In Western Civilization, our elders are books.
Nature is orderly. That which appears to be chaotic in nature is only a more complex kind of order.
All that we did was human, stupid, easily forgiven, Not quite right.
With no surroundings there can be no path, and with no path one cannot become free.
All this new stuff goes on top turn it over, turn it over wait and water down from the dark bottom turn it inside out let it spread through Sift down even. Watch it sprout. A mind like compost.
Range after range of mountains. Year after year after year. I am still in love.
I hold the most archaic values on earth ... the fertility of the soul, the magic of the animals, the power-vision in solitude.... the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe.
The size of the place that one becomes a member of is limited only by the size of one’s heart.
I thought, that day I started, I sure would hate to do this all my life, And dammit, that’s just what I’ve gone and done.
Will be but corpses dressed in frocks, who cannot speak to birds or rocks.
All those years and their moments— Crackling bacon, slamming car doors, Poems tried out on friends, Will be one more archive, One more shaky text.
Clouds sink down the hills Coffee is hot again. The dog Turns and turns about, stops and sleeps.
On Climbing the Sierra Mountains again after 31 years Range after range of mountains Year after year after year. I am still in love.
The other side of the "sacred" is the sight of your beloved in the underworld, dripping with maggots.
Great Brown Bear is walking with us, Salmon swimming upstream with us, as we stroll a city street.
In the 40,000 year time scale we're all the same people. We're all equally primitive, give or take two or three thousand years here or a hundred years there.
Switchback" turn, turn, and again, hard scrabble steep travel ahead.
I could almost love you again.
How Poetry Comes to Me It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire I go to meet it at the Edge of the light
What use, Milton, a silly story Of our lost general parents, eaters of fruit?
 there circulated a palpable aura of fame and death. ){kind=small}
Around Jack (Kerouac) there circulated a palpable aura of fame and death.
Deer love mushrooms.
