Quote

The poignancy of a photograph comes from looking back to a fleeting moment in a floating world. The transitoriness is what creates the sense of the sacred

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
Sacred
Looking
Moment
Transitoriness
Comes
Poignancy
Sense
Fleeting
Moments
Floating
Back
Creates
World
Photograph

More quotes by 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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Follow your inner moonlight don't hide the madness.
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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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I think it was when I ran into Kerouac and Burroughs - when I was 17 - that I realized I was talking through an empty skull... I wasn't thinking my own thoughts or saying my own thoughts.
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Naked in solitary prison cell he looks down at a hard-on.
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It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is broken now.
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The first person who really showed me the ugly spirit was Brion Gysin. The ugly spirit shot Joan because . . . and I never found out why. This Brion wrote out on a piece of paper in a sort of trance state.
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There is nothing to be learned from history anymore. We're in science fiction now.
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If you want to make order, put your own heart in order, and, having put one's heart in order, one can regulate the family order.
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We are all exposed to the flash bulb of death.
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The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction.
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Night is the wonderful opportunity to take rest, to forgive, to smile, to get ready for all the battles that you have to fight tomorrow.
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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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I know too much and not enough
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It's never to late to do nothing at all.
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No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love- be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love -cannot be bitter, cannot deny, cannot withhold if denied: the weight is too heavy
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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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one must verge on the unknown, write toward the truth hitherto unrecognizable of one’s own sincerity, including the avoidable beauty of doom, shame, and embarrassment, that very area of personal self-recognition,(detailed individual is universal remember) which formal conventions, internalized, keep us from discovering in ourselves and others
Allen Ginsberg
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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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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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