Sacrificing good men to journalism is like sending William Faulkner to work for Time magazine. - Hunter S. Thompson

My blood is too thick for California: I have never been able to properly explain myself in this climate.

They would owe most of their success to a curious rape mania that rides on the shoulder of American journalism like some jeering, masturbating raven.
Nothing grabs an editor's eye like a good rape.

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .
And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .