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The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a 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
Every
Soft
Air
Promise
Fine
Stars
Dream
Cobbled
Thought
Alley
Great
Alleys

More quotes by Jack Kerouac

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My whole wretched life swam before my weary eyes, and I realized no matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.
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Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.
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stick at it like a benni addict
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Life must be rich and full of loving--it's no good otherwise, no good at all, for anyone.
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-no girl had ever moved me with a story of spiritual suffering and so beautifully her soul showing out radiant as an angel wandering in hell and the hell the selfsame streets I'd roamed in watching, watching for someone just like her and never dreaming the darkness and the mystery and eventuality of our meeting in eternity.
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I was having a wonderful time and the whole world opened up before me because I had no dreams.
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Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.
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And there in the blue air I saw for the first time, far off, the great snowy tops of the Rocky Mountains. I had to get to Denver at once.
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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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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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When you start separating people from their rivers, what have you got? Bureaucracy!
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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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There is a blessedness surely to be believed, and that is that everything abides in eternal ecstasy, now and forever.
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This was really the way my whole road experience began, and the things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell.
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Yeah, I said, but you're an artist. You don't believe in decency and honesty and gratitude. Where shall we eat?
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The cowboy music twanged in the roadhouse and carried across the fields, all sadness. It was all right with me. I kissed my baby and we put out the lights.
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You are the equal of the idol who has given you your inspiration
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LA is the loneliest and most brutal of American cities NY gets god-awful cold in the winter but there's a feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. LA is a jungle.
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I'm writing this book because we're all going to die.
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It all ends in tears anyway.
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