—In the talk I’d had with Blacky his earnestness had sent a shiver thru my chest —it is ever so, and men are men —And is Blacky less a man because he never married and had no children and did not obey nature’s injunction to multiply corpses of himself? With his brooding dark face and pout by the stove and lowered pious eyes, on some rainy night next winter, there will come diamond and lotus hands to ring a rose around his forehead (or I bust) (to miss my guess) —
wherefore have you
Earned your name?
–– Desolation Angels by Jack Karouac p 60