"Even a goddamn were-wolf is entitled to legal counsel..." — Hunter S. Thompson

After West Point and the Priesthood, LSD must have seemed entirely logical to him...

I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger: A man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.

"What do you want? Where's the goddamn ice I ordered? Where's the booze? There's a war on, man! People are being killed!"

"Killed?” He almost whispered the word.

“In Vietnam!” I yelled. “On the goddamn television!"

“Oh...yes...yes,” he said. “This terrible war. When will it end?"

“Tell me,” I said quietly. “What do you want?"