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A murder in 1944 draws together the great poets of the beat generation: Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs.
Allen Ginsberg: Some things, once you've loved them, become yours forever./And if you try to let them go... /They only circle back and return to you./They become part of who you are... Lucien Carr: ...or they destroy you.
Allen Ginsberg: [reading his poem] Be careful, you are not in Wonderland. I've heard the strange madness long growing in your soul, in your isolation but you fortunate in your ignorance. You who have suffered find where love hides, give, share, lose, lest we die unbloomed. Jack Kerouac: Allen, that was beautiful, kid. Lucien Carr: You wrote that? Allen Ginsberg: You asked me to.
Allen Ginsberg: Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet.
Lucien Carr: First thought, best thought.
Lucien Carr: [on Kerouac's writings] It's brilliant, no? Allen Ginsberg: It's missing some periods and commas. Lucien Carr: It's better than anything you've ever written. Allen Ginsberg: I use periods and commas.
Allen Ginsberg: You got me and Jack and Bill making your vision come true because you can't do it yourself. Lucien Carr: No, Allen. You got what you wanted. You were ordinary, just like any other freshman and I made your life extraordinary. Go be you, now all by yourself. Leave me alone! Allen Ginsberg: [crying] You don't mean... you don't mean that. Lucien Carr: Allen. Leave!
Lucien Carr: I was a kid, and you dragged me into your perverted mess. David Kammerer: How can you say that? You know that's not true. I will never give up on us. Lucien Carr: You're pathetic.
David Kammerer: You said I was everything to you. You are everything to me. Everything to me, do you hear me? Please, Lu. Please?
Allen Ginsberg: [upon William Burroughs offering him a joint] Uhm, no thanks, I don't do the cannabis. William Burroughs: Show me the man who is both sober and happy, and I will show you the crinkled anus of a lying asshole.
Allen Ginsberg: [to Lucien] Fuck you! You're a phony.
Allen Ginsberg: [Ginsberg has just met William S Burroughs] Is he a criminal? Lucien Carr: He wishes he were.