Quote

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.

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
Lost
Drowning
Soul
Sink
Firsts
Witch
First
Began
Like
Lips
Brooded
Deep
Heady
Bits
Brew
Rich
Witches

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Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank traced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives.
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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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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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I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.
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This was really the way my whole road experience began, and the things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell.
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Mind is the Maker, for no reason at all, for all this creation, created to fall.
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You were my last chance' she's said but don't all women say that? - But can it be by 'last chance' she doesn't mean mere marriage but some profoundly sad realization of something in me she really needs to go on living, at least that impression coming across anyway on the force of all the gloom we've shared -
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Besides, all my New York friends were in the negative, nightmare position of putting down society and giving their tired bookish or political or psychoanalytical reasons, but Dean just raced in society, eager for bread and love.
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Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.
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I'm right there, swimming the river of hardships but I know how to swim.
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Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.
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I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.
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I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference.
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The only alternative to sleeping out, hopping freights, and doing what I wanted, I saw in a vision would be to just sit with a hundred other patients in front of a nice television set in a madhouse, where we could be supervised.
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Prison is where you promise yourself the right to live.
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Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind.
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So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.
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Burroughs is the greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift.
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What a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.
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It's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies
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