That`s it, one of the last great writers is gone.
Just Beckett and Bukowski left now.
I`ll be drinking one for you Dr Gonzo.
One who understood the sickness, and fought it.

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-

"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy thorn from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of PAllas just above my chamber door;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!

I understand now why he quoted that piece of Poe so much in his latter years.