“Once was a time, in New York’s jungle in a tree, before I went into the world in search of other kinds of love nobody owned me but a cat named Sloopy. Looking back perhaps she’s been the only human thing that ever gave love back to me.” -Rod McKuen
“I don’t apologize for being hard to know I am what I am.” -Rod McKuen
“I taste like you - remember because I’ve been with you so long because we are each other as we are ourselves. All I have to fight is what I’ve been for you before.” -Rob McKuen
“I am going home to see if there is such a place as home.” -Rod McKuen
“I am afraid of being alone now it happens every time you close the door or go into the next room away from me.” -Rod McKuen
“The mind is such a junkyard; it remembers candy bars but not the Gettysburg Address, Frank Sinatra’s middle name but not the day your best friend died.” -Rod McKuen
“How does it feel to kill? Liking dying lonesome and unloved yourself. Like cutting living grass, or losing all your marbles in a match that wasn’t right.” -Rod McKuen
“I live alone. It hasn’t always been that way. It’s nice sometimes to open up the heart a little and let some hurt come in. It proves you’re still alive. “Rod McKuen
“A man is killed in Hindustan I feel the bullet in my head. A child is crying in the street her tears could be my own. I know that animals help man when slaughtered on the doctor’s couch but dead dogs by the roadside stay with me for days. -Rod McKuen
“Think of all the men who never knew the answers think of all those who never even cared. Still there are some who ask why who want to know, who dare to try. Every now and then we meet that kind of man here he comes again and now he’s gone.” -Rod McKuen
“Fluorescent mirrors in public johns were meant to kill our good conceptions of ourselves.” -Rod McKuen
“And when loves goes away, and when love goes good-bye catches in their throats like cotton.” -Rod McKuen
“I always thought that I’d die in my own bed. Surrounded by the memories of the life I’d led. Surrounded by memories of the life I led. Not mourned by many, but by a chosen few. The few who understood the things I tried so hard to do. Now I’m dying all alone. Now I’m dying all alone. With the November wind singing in the far west, my home.” -Rod McKuen
Be good to each other,
Nathan
