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At the time, acid made me consider questions of reality, the difference, as someone said, between words and silence. It also brought back a lot of latent religious feelings in me that I had turned my back on.

I have to confess that a strong contributing factor was that I had just taken what was probably the first acid ever made, given to me by a guy called Johnny Fellows, who had just returned from America.

There are three side effects of acid: enhanced long-term memory, decreased short-term memory, and I forget the third.

I think I did every drug known to mankind, smoked crack, boozed, dropped acid, you name it.

I went to a doctor and told him I felt normal on acid, that I was a light bulb in a world of moths. That is what the manic state is like.

I'm just taking it one day at a time. Actually, that's a total lie. I always think about what's in front of me.

After I got over the terrible pain of having something of mine taken from me, I began to think how bad everybody else must be feeling. It wasn't a nice time.

I used to swallow people's energies, and then I learned, as I got older, that I'm too sensitive, and I had to stop doing that. Now I don't take as much in.

And I was ashamed of myself for feeling like I had to do that in order to look a certain way. I felt misshapen, just not natural anymore. And I think it was a big stimulator of my drug use.