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I've tried it long ago, with hashish and peyote. Fascinating, yes, but no good, no. This, as we find in alcohol, is an escape from awareness, a cheat, a momentary substitution, and in the end a destruction of it.

Conrad Aiken

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Conrad Aiken
Age: 84 †
Born: 1889
Born: August 5
Died: 1973
Died: August 17
Essayist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Savannah
Georgia
Conrad Aiken
Awareness
Substitution
Ends
Momentary
Find
Cheat
Long
Fascinating
Good
Alcohol
Escape
Destruction
Peyote
Tried
Hashish

More quotes by Conrad Aiken

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My heart has become as hard as a city street, the horses trample upon it, it sings like iron, all day long and all night long they beat, they ring like the hooves of time.
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Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!— But time goes on, and will, unheeding, Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn, And the wild days set true hearts bleeding.
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Music I heard with you was more than music, and bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate all that was once so beautiful is dead.
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Separate we come, and separate we go, And this be it known, is all that we know.
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Death is one dream out of another flowing.
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We are the ghosts of the singing furies .
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It's time to make love, douse the glim The fireflies twinkle and dim The stars lean together Like birds of a feather, And the loin lies down with the limb.
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[At a musical concert:] . . . the music's pure algebra of enchantment.
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I began by doing book reviews on the typewriter and then went over to short stories on the machine, meanwhile sticking to pencil for poetry.
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I love you, what star do you live on?
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I really don't know enough about the structure of fiction.
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Death is a meeting place of sea and sea.
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Time in the heart and sequence in the brain-- Such as destroyed Rimbaud and fooled Verlaine. And let us then take godhead by the neck-- And strangle it, and with it, rhetoric.
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Death is never an ending, death is a change Death is beautiful, for death is strange Death is one dream out of another flowing.
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Oh, I've discarded a great many [poems]. And occasionally I've discarded and then resurrected. I would find a crumpled yellow ball of paper in the wastebasket, in the morning, and open it to see what the hell I'd been up to and occasionally it was something that needed only a very slight change to be brought off, which I'd missed the day before.
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I always hankered to be a composer - I was mad about music, though I never studied seriously, and can't read a note. But I learned to play the piano and became pretty skillful at improvisation, especially after a drop or two.
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The wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams, the eternal asker of answers, stands in the street, and lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
Conrad Aiken
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Time is a dream ... a destroying dream It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
Conrad Aiken
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The hiss was now becoming a roar - the whole world was a vast moving screen of snow - but even now it said peace, it said remoteness, it said cold, it said sleep.
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All lovely things will have an ending, all lovely things will fade and die and youth, that's now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by.
Conrad Aiken