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We fumed and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess - across the night.

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
Across
Guess
Nook
Mountain
Screamed
Americans
Drunken
Land
Yell
Night
Mighty
America
Roof
Mad

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An awful realization that I have been fooling myself all my life thinking there was a next thing to do to keep the show going and actually I'm just a sick clown and so is everybody else
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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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Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.
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The cause of the world's woe is birth, the cure of the world's woe is a bent stick.
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The Beat Generation, that was a vision that we had, John Clellon Holmes and I, and Allen Ginsberg in an even wilder way, in the late forties, of a generation of crazy, illuminated hipsters suddenly rising and roaming America, serious, bumming and hitchhiking everywhere, ragged, beatific, beautiful in an ugly graceful new way.
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If you own a rug you own too much.
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Are we fallen angels who didn't want to believe that nothing is nothing and so were born to lose our loved ones and dear friends one by one and finally our own life, to see it proved?
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Writing at least is a silent meditation even though you’re going a hundred miles an hour.
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Let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious.
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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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I'd rather hop freights around the country and cook my food out of tin cans over wood fires, than be rich and have a home or work.
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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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The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.
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What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.
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Ah, if I could realize, if I could forget myself and devote my meditations to the freeing, the awakening and the blessedness of all living creatures everywhere I'd realize what there is, is ecstasy.
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Believe that the world is an ethereal flower, and ye live.
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Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.
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While looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by the darkness and find the true light
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If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?
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