Quote

Affection is the most important thing. And the quality of affection - with your friends, your lovers, your family. But particularly for your own generation.

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
Quality
Friends
Family
Important
Affection
Thing
Particularly
Lovers
Generation
Generations

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Who can live with this Consciousness and not wake frightened at sunrise?
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Nobody saves America by sniffing cocaine. Jiggling your knees blankeyed in the rain, when it snows in your nose you catch cold in your brain.
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You can't photograph everything.
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The apparition of an evil, sick unconscious wild city rose before me in visible semblance, and about the dead buildings in the barren air, the bodies of the soul that built the wonderland shuffled and stalked and stalked and lurched in attitudes of immemorial nightmare all around.
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None of us understand what we're doing, but we do beautiful things anyway.
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America, how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
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You are what you think about all day.
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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.
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who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism
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The whole blear world of smoke and twisted steel around my head in a railroad car, and my mind wandering past the rust into futurity: I saw the sun go down in a carnal and primeval world, leaving darkness to cover my railroad train because the other side of the world was waiting for dawn.
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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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in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night
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What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit- man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
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Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illumnations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Allen Ginsberg
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Last Exit to Brooklyn should explode like a rusty hellish bombshell over America and still be eagerly read in a hundred years.
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I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
Allen Ginsberg
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I've got enough money to live where I want, but I don't want to move.Go out and have sexual adventures in Burma.
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America, why are your libraries full of tears?
Allen Ginsberg
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It's time we did something to assert ourselves. After all, we do comprise 10% of the population.
Allen Ginsberg
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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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