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I had a good-talking candle last night in my bedroom. I was very tired but I wanted somebody to be with me, so I lit a candle and listened to its comfortable voice of light until I was asleep.

Richard Brautigan

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Richard Brautigan
Age: 49 †
Born: 1935
Born: January 30
Died: 1984
Died: October 25
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Tacoma
Washington
Richard Gary Brautigan
Night
Candle
Light
Tired
Wanted
Comfortable
Good
Somebody
Talking
Lit
Lasts
Listened
Last
Asleep
Voice
Bedroom

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Once upon a time there was a dwarf knight who only had fifty words to live in and they were so fleeting that he only had time to put on a suit of armor and ride swiftly on a black horse into a very well-lit woods where he vanished forever.
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I daydream about a high school where everybody plays the harmonica: the students, the teachers, the principal, the janitor and the cook in the cafeteria.
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The time is right to mix sentences with dirt and the sun with punctuation and rain with verbs.
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Elizabeth's voice had a door in it. When you opened that door you found another door, and that door opened yet another door. All the doors were nice and led out of her.
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I don't know these people and they aren't my flowers.
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I'll think about things for thirty or forty years before I'll write it.
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We could see the children's toys here and there, and we saw a game that the children had made themselves out of dirt, deer antlers and abalone shells, but the game was so strange that only children could tell what it was. Perhaps it wasn't a game at all, only the grave of a game.
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The bookstore was a parking lot for used graveyards. Thousands of graveyards were parked in rows like cars. Most of the books were out of print, and no one wanted to read them any more and the people who had read the books had died or forgotten about them, but through the organic process of music the books had become virgins again.
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We looked like a parade barely moving toward YOU MIGHT GET LOST.
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In a Cafe I watched a man in a cafe fold a slice of bread as if he were folding a birth certificate or looking at the photograph of a dead lover.
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Boo, Forever Spinning like a ghost on the bottom of a top, I'm haunted by all the space that I will live without you.
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I'll think about things for thirty or forty years before I'll write it.
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The bees in my stomach are dead and getting used to it.
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There are not too many fables about man's misuse of sunflower seeds.
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Burn all the maps to your body. I'm not here of my own choosing.
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He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevsky and then from the whores of New Orleans.
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We walked back to iDEATH, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.
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If you get hung up on everybody else's hang-ups, then the whole world's going to be nothing more than one huge gallows.
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Love Poem ـــــــــ It's so nice to wake up in the morning all alone and not have to tell somebody you love them when you don't love them any more.
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Karma Repair Kit Items 1-4. 1.Get enough food to eat, and eat it. 2.Find a place to sleep where it is quiet, and sleep there. 3.Reduce intellectual and emotional noise until you arrive at the silence of yourself, and listen to it. 4.
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