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Mainly I've been back to my books and writings and being nice and quiet and lazy. As I'm writing this, the radio says there's a foot of snow falling on Long Island. I really love snow and wish I could take a long walk in it right now.
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
Right
Says
Lazy
Writing
Books
Falling
Long
Nice
Snow
Really
Wish
Radio
Writings
Love
Fall
Quiet
Mainly
Back
Walk
Island
Book
Walks
Islands
Take
Feet
Foot
More quotes by Jack Kerouac
I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.
Jack Kerouac
So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.
Jack Kerouac
Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.
Jack Kerouac
We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.
Jack Kerouac
Sal, we gotta go and never stop going 'till we get there.' 'Where we going, man?' 'I don't know but we gotta go.
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What does it mean that I am in this endless universe, thinking that I'm a man sitting under the stars on the terrace of the earth, but actually empty and awake throughout the emptiness and awakedness of everything? It means that I'm empty and awake, that I know I'm empty and awake, and that there's no difference between me and anything else.
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There was nothing to talk about anymore. The only thing to do was go.
Jack Kerouac
At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.
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There is a blessedness surely to be believed, and that is that everything abides in eternal ecstasy, now and forever.
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When the railroad trains moaned, and river-winds blew, bringing echoes through the vale, it was as if a wild hum of voices, the dear voices of everybody he had known, were crying: Peter, Peter! Where are you going, Peter? And a big soft gust of rain came down. He put up the collar of his jacket, and bowed his head, and hurried along.
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It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.
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Details are the Life of Prose.
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I like it because its ugly
Jack Kerouac
LA is the loneliest and most brutal of American cities NY gets god-awful cold in the winter but there's a feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. LA is a jungle.
Jack Kerouac
Burroughs is the greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift.
Jack Kerouac
At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
Jack Kerouac
Who knows, my God, but that the universe is not one vast sea of compassion actually, the veritable holy honey, beneath all this show of personality and cruelty?
Jack Kerouac
...do you think God made the world to amuse himself because he was bored? Because if so he would have to be mean.
Jack Kerouac
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.
Jack Kerouac
...and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.
Jack Kerouac