Quote

They spent all week saving pennies and went out Saturdays to spend fifty bucks in three hours.

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
Three
Saturday
Fifty
Saving
Spent
Spend
Week
Saturdays
Went
Pennies
Hours
Bucks

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Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream.
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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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equally empty, equally to be loved, equally a coming Buddha
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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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And then we’ll all go off to sweet life, ‘cause now is the time and we all know time!
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You seek identity in the midst of indistinguishab le chaos, in sprawling nameless reality.
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I have fallen in love with you, God. Take care of us all, one way or the other.
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There was nothing to talk about anymore. The only thing to do was go.
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Down in Denver, all I did was die.
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We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell
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and never really thought I'd amount to anything. It was precisely what I wanted the whole world to think then I could sneak in, if that's what they wanted, and sneak out again, which I did.
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It ain't whatcha write, it's the way atcha write it.
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And still the Void is still and'll never move - But I will be the Void, moving without having moved.
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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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And the Hippos were boiled in their tanks!
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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.
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Some's bastards, some's ain't. That's the score.
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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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Details are the Life of Prose.
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All is well, practice kindness, heaven is nigh.
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