"Wither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?"

"The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream."




"They danced down the street like dingledoodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because 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 that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn."

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? — it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

"Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life."



Au revoir. May the next time I write here it be in a new home.