“It's an old song that's been played on all the jukeboxes in America. The song has been around so long that it's… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
Gee, You're so Beautiful That It's Starting to Rain Oh, Marcia, I want your long blonde beauty to be taught in high… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
The bookstore was a parking lot for used graveyards. Thousands of graveyards were parked in rows like cars. Most of the books… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
I daydream about a high school where everybody plays the harmonica: the students, the teachers, the principal, the janitor and the cook in the… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
“The river loved to tell everybody (everybody being the sky, the wind, the few trees that grew around there, birds, deer and even the stars if you can believe that) what a great river it was. "I come roaring from the earth and return roaring to the earth. I am the master of my waters. I am the mother and… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share
“I guess some people lived like Reader's Digest, but I hadn't met any and at that time it seemed doubtful that I ever would” — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
“The Beautiful Poem" I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking about you. Pissing a few moments ago I looked down at my penis… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
I didn't know the full dimensions of forever, but I knew it was longer than waiting for Christmas to come. — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
“Alas, Measured Perfectly" Saturday, August 25, 1888. 5:20 P.M. is the name of a photograph of two old women in a front yard, beside a white house. One of the women is sitting in a chair with a dog in her lap. The other woman is looking at some flowers. Perhaps the women are happy, but then it is Saturday,… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share
“Congratulations," I said. "It's so wonderful to write a book." "I walked all the way here," she said. "I started at midnight. I would have gotten here sooner if I weren't so old." "Where do you live?" I said. "The Kit Carson Hotel," she said. "And I've written a book." Then she handed it proudly to me as if it… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share
“My Name “I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind. If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share
I had become so quiet and so small in the grass by the pond that I was barely noticeable, hardly there. I sat there watching their living room shining out of the dark beside the pond. It looked like a fairy-tale functioning happily in the post-World War II gothic of America before television crippled the imagination and turned people indoors… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share
Once upon a time there was a dwarf knight who only had fifty words to live in and they were so fleeting that he… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
“I feel horrible. She doesn't love me and I wander around the house like a sewing machine that's just finished sewing a turd to… — Richard Brautigan Copy Share Image
