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We lay on our backs looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when he made life so sad and disinclined.

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
Ceilings
Backs
Wondering
Lays
Wonder
Looking
Disinclined
Made
Wrought
Life
Ceiling

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What's in store for me in the direction I don't take?
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Something good will come out of all things yet — And it will be golden and eternal just like that.
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Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.
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One night I realized that when you give people understanding and encouragement a funny little meek childish look abashes their eyes, no matter what they've been doing they weren't sure it was right - lambies all over the world.
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The more ups and downs, the more joy I feel. The greater the fear, the greater the happiness I feel.
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Down in Denver, all I did was die.
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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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Jumping from boulder to boulder and never falling, with a heavy pack, is easier than it sounds you just can't fall when you get into the rhythm of the dance.
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I like it because its ugly
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and the stars were icicles of mockery
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Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you're already in heaven now.
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Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind.
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What's your road, man? - holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. Where body how?
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I'll go to the south of Sicily in the winter, and paint memories of Arles – I'll buy a piano and Mozart me that – I'll write long sad tales about people in the legend of my life – This part is my part of the movie, let's hear yours
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I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy and I picked on the world. And of course I was right.
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...and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.
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Man lowers his head and lunges into civilization, forgetting the days of his infancy when he sought truth in a snowflake or a stick. Man forgets the wisdom of the child.
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The smog was heavy, my eyes were weeping from it, the sun was hot, the air stank, a regular hell is L.A.
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Don't tell them too much about your soul. They're waiting for just that.
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