Emotions and Feelings

You, Doctor Martin, walk from breakfast to madness. Late August, I speed through the antiseptic tunnel where the moving dead still talk of pushing their bones against the thrust of cure. And I am queen of this summer hotel or the laughing bee on a stalk of death.

I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night.

You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, but if faced With courage, need not be lived again.

Something like living occurs, a movement Out of the dream into its codification.

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.

LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED! there is no snow in Hollywood there is no rain in California I have been to lots of parties and acted perfectly disgraceful but I never actually collapsed oh Lana Turner we love you get up

oh god it’s wonderful to get out of bed and drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes and love you so much

O mother what have I left out O mother what have I forgotten

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

How can I die alone. Where will I be then who am now alone, what groans so pathetically in this room where I am alone?

How can I die alone. Where will I be then who am now alone, what groans so pathetically in this room where I am alone?

Into the company of love it all returns.

Springtime for Hitler and Germany, Deutschland is happy and gay. We’re moving to a faster pace, Look out, here comes the Master Race!

Time has passed like a courier with urgent news. But that’s just our simile. The character’s invented, his haste is make-believe, his news inhuman.

God has pity on kindergarten children. He has less pity on school children. And on grownups he has no pity at all, he leaves them alone, and sometimes they must crawl on all fours in the burning sand to reach the first-aid station covered with blood.

Never such innocence again.

Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off?

Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off?

Death has got something to be said for it: There’s no need to get out of bed for it; Wherever you may be, They bring it to you, free.

Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.