And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time. - Jack Kerouac

It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.

(...) comes under the influence of old French Fairies who accuse him of constipation of the brain & diarrhea of the mouth

I'd rather be thin than famous
but I'm fat
paste that in your broadway show