- (segment "This Ain't Bebop"): I remember when Kerouac rode the highways in wild nights; radios, wine and cools. While Pollock was painting, while I stared at Diane Arbus, Robert Frank and while Ginsberg howled; Coltrane played for himself. People listened. People Listen!
- Beat Poetess: It's not a question of art for art's sake, it never was! It's a question of believing that freedom from community is why we were born; to be, to see, to burn the only way that we know how. To dream that dream, that moment, that moment breathed those bitching, laughing faces that see only why you're cute, funny, mad... The person to be with, but never to the point of committing any real thought of who you are; what you are. Only to take from you the right to say, 'Sure, I knew him, we were real close". You die, another American disaster wondering why you ever thought they really 'got it'.