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Will you love me in December as you do in May?

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
May
Love
December
Wisdom

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Bee, why are you staring at me? I am not a flower??
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To think that so much comes to so little, to think that life is really short.
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But, outside of being a sweet little girl, she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things.
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I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference.
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All of life is a foreign country.
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The whole mad swirl of everything that was to come began then.
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As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind.
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I'm going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children.
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At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
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Because anybody can write, but not everybody invents new forms of writing. Gertrude Stein invented a new form of writing and her imitators are just talents.
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All is well, practice kindness, heaven is nigh.
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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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Life is life, and kind is kind
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and I shudder sometimes to think of all that stellar mystery of how she IS going to get me in a future lifetime, wow - And I seriously do believe that will be my salvation, too. A long way to go.
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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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And the Hippos were boiled in their tanks!
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We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.
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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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and the stars were icicles of mockery
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