Jim Morrison Quotes

I touched her thigh and death smiled

O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying We live, we die and death not ends it

Few would defend a small view of Alchemy as "Mother of Chemistry", and confuse its true goal with those external metal arts. Alchemy is an erotic science, involved in buried aspects of reality, aimed at purifying and transforming all being and matter. Not to suggest that material operations are ever abandoned. The adept holds to both the mystical and physical work.

The old get older And the young get stronger May take a week And it may take longer They got the guns But we got the numbers Gonna win, yeah We're takin' over Come on!

It hurts to set you free, but you’ll never follow me.

They can picture love affairs of chemicals and stars, a romance of stones, or the fertility of fire. Strange, fertile correspondences the alchemists sensed in unlikely orders of being. Between men and planets, plants and gestures, words and weather.

Cool pools from a tired land sink now in the peace of evening Clouds weaken and die. The sun, an orange skull, whispers quietly, becomes an island, & is gone. There they are watching us everything will be dark. The light changed. We were aware knee-deep in the fluttering air as the ships move on trains in their wake.

I think, in these days, especially in the States, you have to be a politician or an assassin or something, to really be a superstar.

Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name? Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game.

I'll tell you this — No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.

I can't believe this is happening I can't believe all these people are sniffing each other & backing away teeth grinning hair raised, growling, here in the slaughtered wind

Lying on stained wretched sheets with the bleeding virgin, we could plan a murder...or start a religion.

I'm sick of dour faces Staring at me from the T.V. Tower. I want roses in my garden bower; dig?

We have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets

This is it no more fun the death of all joy has come.