“I’m haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words.
I’ve been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.”
— Richard Brautigan, “Revenge of the Lawn” (1971)
(via daynewmah at reddit/r/taoism)