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Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.

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
Pipe
Paris
London
Independent
Woman
Men
Puffing
Pubs

More quotes by Jack Kerouac

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the golden eternity is { }
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And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.
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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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I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy and I picked on the world. And of course I was right.
Jack Kerouac
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And the story of love is a long sad tale ending in graves.
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and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear?
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You'd be surprised how little I knew even up to yesterday
Jack Kerouac
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Something good will come out of all things yet — And it will be golden and eternal just like that.
Jack Kerouac
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Your Buddhism has made you mean Ray and makes you even afraid to take your clothes off for a simple healthy orgy
Jack Kerouac
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At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
Jack Kerouac
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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.
Jack Kerouac
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If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?
Jack Kerouac
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All of life is a foreign country.
Jack Kerouac
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Bee, why are you staring at me? I am not a flower??
Jack Kerouac
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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.
Jack Kerouac
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A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.
Jack Kerouac
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Rest and be kind, you don't have to prove anything
Jack Kerouac
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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.
Jack Kerouac
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But I remember seeing a mess of leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of 'Oh my God, we're all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do
Jack Kerouac
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It ain't whatcha write, it's the way atcha write it.
Jack Kerouac