"the Bird. and the ocean down there. and bad battery. a lemon. the cops patrolling their stupid dry streets. what a bad war it is. and what an idiot nightmare, only this momentary cool space between us, we are all going to be smashed, very quickly into broken children's toys, into those highheels that ran so gaily down the stairway to be fucked out of it forever, forever, forever, dunces and fools, dunces and tools, god damn our weak bravery," p. 30.

"I will only say this, out of a background of factories, park benches, two-bit jobs, bad women, bad weather of Life - the reason the average person is at the track is that they are driven screwy by the turn of the bolt, the foreman's insane face, the landlord's hand, the lover's dead sex; taxation, cancer, the blues, clothes that fall apart on a 3rd wearing, water...