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The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream.

Jack Kerouac

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Jack Kerouac
Age: 47 †
Born: 1922
Born: March 13
Died: 1969
Died: October 21
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
East Chelmsford
Massachusetts
Jean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac
Jean-Louis Lebris de Kerouac
Kerouac
Jean-Louis Kerouac
Dream
Great
Wellness
Consists
Yoga
Strange
Realizing
Wisdom
Happiness

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..and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didnt know who I was
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It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night.
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No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength
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Life is life, and kind is kind
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The unspeakable visions of the individual.
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The dream is already ended and we're already awake in the golden eternity.
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I rather like the idea of having all my hours to myself: eating a Fudge Sundae, watching a movie, sleeping on my couch, singing in the bathroom, studying the woods, kidding around with a girl, playing cards lazily - all kinds of stuff that American brands 'shiftless.'
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There is a blessedness surely to be believed, and that is that everything abides in eternal ecstasy, now and forever.
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As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind.
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You don't realize what a strain it is on the nerves to write or think-of-writing all day long, and to sleep full of nervous dreams, and to wake up not knowing who one is: this all stems from anxiety about finishing the book, about time 'growing short', etc., and the perpetual strain of invention.
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She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost like drowning in a witches' brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike.
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Somewhere along the line, the pearl would be handed to me.
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Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.
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Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.
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Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream.
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Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.
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Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.
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No time for poetry but exactly what is.
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Night is longer than day for those who dream & day is longer than night for those who make their dreams comes true.
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What does it mean that I am in this endless universe, thinking that I'm a man sitting under the stars on the terrace of the earth, but actually empty and awake throughout the emptiness and awakedness of everything? It means that I'm empty and awake, that I know I'm empty and awake, and that there's no difference between me and anything else.
Jack Kerouac