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Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.
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
Stem
Autumn
Delicate
Almost
Fall
Swinging
Hinges
Leafs
Leaf
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February dawn -- frost on the path Where I paced all winter.
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And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.
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Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.
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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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Bee, why are you staring at me? I am not a flower??
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The page is long, blank, and full of truth. When I am through with it, it shall probably be long, full, and empty with words.
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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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It's okay, girl, we'll make it till the sun goes down forever. And until then what you got to lose but the losing? We're fallen angels who didn't believe that nothing means nothing.
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I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.
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Don't tell them too much about your soul. They're waiting for just that.
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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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Pain or love or danger makes you real again.
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the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
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...and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.
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The unspeakable visions of the individual.
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-no girl had ever moved me with a story of spiritual suffering and so beautifully her soul showing out radiant as an angel wandering in hell and the hell the selfsame streets I'd roamed in watching, watching for someone just like her and never dreaming the darkness and the mystery and eventuality of our meeting in eternity.
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beautiful insane in the rain
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Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.
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