Jim Morrison: “Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.”
Indian, Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all.
This is the strangest life I have ever known.
I think the highest and lowest points are the important ones. Anything else is just…in between.
The future is uncertain but the end is always near.
Time to live, time to lie, time to laugh, and time to die. Take it easy baby. Take it as it comes.
The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can’t be any large-scale revolution until there’s a personal revolution, on an individual level. It’s got to happen inside first.
When others demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destroy the person we really are. It’s a subtle kind of murder … The most loving parents and relatives commit this murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.
People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.
Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself-and especially to feel, or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That’s what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is.
Me and my mother and father, and a grandmother and a grandfather. were driving through the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian workers had either hit another car, or just — I don’t know what happened — but there were Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death.
So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time I tasted fear. I musta’ been about four — like a child is like a flower, his head is just floating in the breeze, man. The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back — is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead Indians… maybe one or two of ’em… were just running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul. And they’re still there.
People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over.
Man, I’m sick of doubt.
Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.
Drugs are a bet with your mind. It’s like gambling, somehow. You go out for a night of drinking and you don’t know where you’re going to end up the next day. It could work out good, or it could be disastrous. It’s like the throw of the dice.
The subject says: I see first many things which dance… then everything gradually becomes connected.
Blake said that the body was the soul’s prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the ‘windows of the soul.’ When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.
I offer images-I conjure memories of freedom that can still be reached-like the Doors, right? But we can only open the doors-we can’t drag people through.
I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.
If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it’s to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.
Let’s just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That’s all it was: just curiosity.
Where’s your will to be weird?
I like people who shake other people up and make them feel uncomfortable.
Between childhood, boyhood, adolescence and manhood (maturity) there should be sharp lines drawn with tests, deaths, feats, rites, stories, songs, and judgments.
Listen, real poetry doesn’t say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you.
I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos-especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom… Rather than starting inside, I start outside and reach the mental through the physical.
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders round as ravens claws.
A man searching for paradise lost can seem a fool to those who never sought the other world.
It’s so eternal. As long as there are people, they can remember words and combinations of words. Nothing else can survive a holocaust, but poetry and songs.
Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. The entertainment for this evening is not new, you’ve seen this entertainment through and through you have seen your birth, your life, your death… you may recall all the rest. Did you have a good world when you died? ―enough to base a movie on??
Nobody understands you better than yourself, but if someone tries to do it is because he loves you.
I’m interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that appears to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom.
That’s what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending – performing. You get to love your pretence. It’s true, we’re locked in an image, an act – and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image, they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you’re trying to steal their most precious possession.
It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.
Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the House of Detention
I got some friends inside
The face in the mirror won’t stop
The girl in the window won’t drop
A feast of friends
“Alive!” she cried
Waitin’ for me
Love cannot save you from your own fate.
I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps “Oh look at that!” Then — whoosh, and I’m gone… and they’ll never see anything like it ever again… and they won’t be able to forget me — ever.
You live you die and death not ends it.
One shouldn’t take life so seriously. No one gets out alive anyway.