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One day Time will die And love will bury it

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
Time
Love
Bury
Dies

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For fear you will be alone you do so many things that aren't you at all.
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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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Reduce intellectual and emotional noise until you arrive at the silence of yourself and listen to it.
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All girls should have a poem written for them even if we have to turn this goddamn world upside down to do it.
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I’ll affect you slowly as if you were having a picnic in a dream. There will be no ants. It won’t rain.
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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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The bees in my stomach are dead and getting used to it.
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I'll think about things for thirty or forty years before I'll write it.
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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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There are not too many fables about man's misuse of sunflower seeds.
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I feel as if I am an ad for the sale of a haunted house: 18 rooms $37,000 I’m yours ghosts and all.
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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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If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer. That is my name.
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The smallest snowstorm on record took place an hour ago in my back yard. It was approximately two flakes. I waited for more to fall, but that was it. The entire storm was two flakes.
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A friend came over to the house a few days ago and read one of my poems. He came back today and asked to read the same poem over again. After he finished reading it, he said, It makes me want to write poetry.
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Burn all the maps to your body. I'm not here of my own choosing.
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It's pretty hard to have faith when everybody is trying to lock you up.
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God-forsaken is beautiful, too.
Richard Brautigan
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I saw thousands of pumpkins last night come floating in on the tide, bumping up against the rocks and rolling up on the beaches it must be Halloween in the sea
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Hinged to forgetfulness like a door, she slowly closed out of sight, and she was the woman I loved, but too many times she slept like a mechanical deer in my caresses, and I ached in the metal silence of her dreams.
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