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But, outside of being a sweet little girl, she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things.

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
Things
Dumb
Horrible
Capable
Outside
Sweet
Girl
Littles
Little
Awfully

More quotes by Jack Kerouac

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Way far back in the beginning of the world was the whirlwind warning that we could all be blown away like chips and cry- Men with tired eyes realize it now, and wait to deform and decay- with maybe they have the power of love yet in their hearts just the same, I just don't know what that word means anymore- All I want is an ice cream cone
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At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.
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I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.
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Details are the Life of Prose.
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Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.
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Rest and be kind, you don't have to prove anything
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I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
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A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.
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Some's bastards, some's ain't. That's the score.
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Things are so hard to figure out when you live from day to day in this feverish and silly world.
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In my madness I was actually in love with her for the few hours it all lasted it was the same unmistakable ache and stab across the mind, the same sighs, the same pain, and above all the same reluctance and fear to approach.
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It all ends in tears anyway.
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It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night.
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But why think about that when all the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you're alive to see?
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To think that so much comes to so little, to think that life is really short.
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Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.’ You kill yourself to get to the grave. Especially you kill yourself to get to the grave before you die and the name of the grave is ‘success’, the name of that grave is hullabullo boom boom horseshit.
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It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.
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It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.
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Will you love me in December as you do in May?
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His friends said, Why do you have that ugly thing hanging there? and Bull said, I like it because it's ugly. All his life was in that line.
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