Ken Kesey

I don't think you fully understand the public, my friend; in this country, when something is out of order, then the quickest way to get it fixed is the best way.

He couldn't seem to get his teeth into anything. Except books. The things in books was darn near more real to him than the things breathing and eating.

Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.

But he won__ let the pain blot out the humor no more__ he__l let the humor blot out the pain.

One of the dumbest things you were ever taught was to write what you know. Because what you know is usually dull. Remember when you first wanted to be a writer? Eight or ten years old, reading about thin-lipped heroes flying over mysterious viny jungles toward untold wonders? That's what you wanted to write about, about what you didn't know. So. What mysterious time and place don't we

There's something about taking a plow and breaking new ground. It gives you energy.

The truth doesn't have to do with cruelty, the truth has to do with mercy.

Nowhere else in history has there ever been a flag that stands for the right to burn itself. This is the fractal of our flag. It stands for the right to destroy itself.

It's time to move on to the next step in the psychedelic revolution. We've reached a certain point, but we're not moving any more.

The Grateful Dead are our religion. This is a religion that doesn't pay homage to the God that all the other religions pay homage to.

You can't really be strong until you see a funny side to things.

The stars up close to the moon were pale they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon

People think love is an emotion. Love is good sense.

Loved. You can't use it in the past tense. Death does not stop that love at all.

One of the dumbest things you were ever taught was to write what you know. Because what you know is usually dull. Remember when you first wanted to be a writer? Eight or ten years old, reading about thin-lipped heroes flying over mysterious viny jungles toward untold wonders? That's what you wanted to write about, about what you didn't know. So. What mysterious time and place don't we know?", December 31, 1989)]

turns me on so loud it's like no sound, everybody yelling at me hands over their ears from behind a glass wall, faces working around in talk circles but no sound from the mouths. my sound soaks up all other sound.

It__ fall coming, I thought, I can smell that sour-molasses smell of silage, clanging the air like a bell _ smell like somebody__ been burning oak leaves, left them to smolder overnight because they__e too green.

I can__ do nothing for you either, Billy. You know that. None of us can. You got to understand that as soon as a man goes to help somebody, he leaves himself wide open. He has to be cagey, Billy, you should know that as well as anyone. What could I do? I can__ fix your stuttering. I can__ wipe the razorblade scars off your wrists or the cigarette burns off the back of your hands. I can__ give you a new mother. And as far as the nurse riding you like this, rubbing your nose in your weakness till what little dignity you got left is gone and you shrink up to nothing from humiliation, I can__ do anything about that, either.