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I'd like to imagine I won't end up in hell, but I think I've done too much acid and listened to too much death metal to sit on a cloud next to God with angels floating above my head.
--
Maxim Magazine (January 2008)

 

Dave Grohl

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The underground press was convinced that I was a junkie, an acid head. ... But I don't do drugs. I don't like being f**ked up. I've got enough bizarre chemicals floating around in my head. I'm just naturally like this.

 

Terry Gilliam

 

You know, I talk about doing acid 30 years ago. Rumsfeld must do it daily. Right before he goes out for a press conference: "Oh, hi... I notice the doorknobs are all crawling around the ceiling. Hello! Oh, there's CNN. Oh gee! Look at the big eye on that camera! Oh, God, get it away from me! And the teeth!" ... You think I'm kidding about this guy does acid? And he does the bad stuff. The brown acid. ... Where did this guy come from? What pit of Hell coughed this thug up?! ... Rummy comes out, all acid-headed up, just stoned on his ass - just completely freaked out. "Well, people are waving things at me, coming down the hall... And I don't know, there's stuff JUMPING OUT OF DOORS! ... GIMME SOME NUCLEAR WEAPONS!"

 

Mike Malloy

 

The hard core, the outlaw elite, were the Hell's Angels... wearing the winged death's-head on the back of their sleeveless jackets and packing their "mamas" behind them on big "chopped hogs." They rode with a fine unwashed arrogance, secure in their reputation as the rottenest motorcycle gang in the whole history of Christendom.

 

Hunter S. Thompson

 

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

 

William Butler Yeats

 

How do you think a spade, sword or dagger wounds us? Because the metal is a form of matter in which the particles are closer and more tightly bound together than those of your flesh. The metal forces flesh to yield to strength, just as a galloping squadron penetrates a battle line that is of much greater extent.
And why is a piece of hot metal hotter than a piece of burning wood? Because the metal contains more heat in a smaller volume. The particles in the metal are more compact than those in the wood.

 

Cyrano de Bergerac