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all I wanted to do was sneak out into the night and disappear somewhere, and go and find out what everybody was doing all over the country.

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
Country
Sneak
Disappear
Somewhere
Everybody
Night
Find
Wanted

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At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
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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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What's in store for me in the direction I don't take?
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She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost like drowning in a witches' brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike.
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And this is the way a novel gets written, in ignorance, fear, sorrow, madness, and a kind of psychotic happiness as an incubator for the wonders being born.
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Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.
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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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...most of the time we were alone and mixing up our souls ever more and ever more till it would be terribly hard to say good-by.
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Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind.
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Genius gives birth, talent delivers. What Rembrandt or Van Gogh saw in the night can never be seen again.
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Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.’ You kill yourself to get to the grave. Especially you kill yourself to get to the grave before you die and the name of the grave is ‘success’, the name of that grave is hullabullo boom boom horseshit.
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In my madness I was actually in love with her for the few hours it all lasted it was the same unmistakable ache and stab across the mind, the same sighs, the same pain, and above all the same reluctance and fear to approach.
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Ray, what you got to do is go climb a mountain.
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Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
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I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.
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All of life is a foreign country.
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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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