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Since art is merely and ultimately self-expressive, we conclude that the fullest art, the most individual, uninfluenced, unrepressed, uninhibited expression of art is true expression and the true art.
Allen Ginsberg
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Allen Ginsberg
Age: 70 †
Born: 1926
Born: June 3
Died: 1997
Died: April 5
Autobiographer
Diarist
Musician
Photographer
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Teacher
Writer
Paterson
New Jersey
Irwin Allen Ginsberg
Ayālena Gīnasabārga
Alen Ginzberg
Ultimately
Merely
Expression
Since
Individual
Uninhibited
Art
Conclude
True
Fullest
Self
Expressive
More quotes by Allen Ginsberg
Scientist alone is true poet he gives us the moon he promises the stars he'll make us a new universe if it comes to that.
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The actual materials are important. A book at the nightstand is important - a light you can get at - or a flashlight as Kerouac had a brakeman's latern.
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Recent history is the record of one vast conspiracy to impose one level of mechanical consciousness on mankind.
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Many seek and never see, anyone can tell them why. O they weep and O they cry and never take until they try unless they try it in their sleep and never some until they die. I ask many, they ask me. This is a great mystery.
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Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
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A poem is like a radio that can broadcast continuously for thousands of years.
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The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstacy is holy!
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It's very much related to the American tycoon. To William Randolph Hearst, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, that whole stratum of American acquisitive evil. Monopolistic, acquisitive evil. Ugly evil. The ugly American. The ugly American at his ugly worst. That's exactly what it is.
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Everybody's serious but me.
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The combination of drugs, homosexuality, some good prose recited on screen. . . . In the sweat lodge ceremony we went through, did you get any glimpse of the Ugly Spirit, what that was historically or biographically?
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It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is broken now.
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I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
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Follow your inner moonlight don't hide the madness.
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Taxi September along Jessore Road Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load past watery fields thru rain flood ruts Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts Wet processions Families walk Stunted boys big heads don't talk Look bony skulls & silent round eyes Starving black angels in human disguise.
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I want to be a saint, a real saint while I am young, for there is so much work to do.
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What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
Allen Ginsberg
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an angel!
Allen Ginsberg
Democracy! Bah! When I hear that I reach for my feather boa!
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Thank God I am not God! Thank God I am not God!
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We are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
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