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Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.

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
Wisdom
Away
Place
Raft
Dream
Roaring
Take
Perfectly
Mind
Throw
Silent
Dreams

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Burroughs is the greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift.
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The air was so sweet in New Orleans it seemed to come in soft bandannas and you could smell the river and really smell the people, and mud, and molasses, and every kind of tropical exhalation, with your nose suddenly removed from the dry ices of a Northern winter.
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Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.
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Something that you feel will find its own form.
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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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But, outside of being a sweet little girl, she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things.
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No time for poetry but exactly what is.
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What difference does it make after all?--anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what’s heaven? what’s earth? All in the mind.
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Bee, why are you staring at me? I am not a flower??
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The page is long, blank, and full of truth. When I am through with it, it shall probably be long, full, and empty with words.
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Parade my trouble in front of you guys? Make you realize that my heart is broken . . . that as long as I live I'll have chains dragging me down to the oceans of sad tears that my feet are wet in already.
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But I remember seeing a mess of leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of 'Oh my God, we're all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do
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Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.
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Some's bastards, some's ain't. That's the score.
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We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.
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I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference.
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It's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies
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My shoes are clean from walking in the rain.
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Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition.
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You seek identity in the midst of indistinguishab le chaos, in sprawling nameless reality.
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