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Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.

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
Faces
Floating
America
Dawn
Flowers
Jazz
Tired
Air
Flower
Holy

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Parade my trouble in front of you guys? Make you realize that my heart is broken . . . that as long as I live I'll have chains dragging me down to the oceans of sad tears that my feet are wet in already.
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It’s not that I can’t fall in love. It’s really that I can’t help falling in love with too many things all at once. So, you must understand why I can’t distinguish between what’s platonic and what isn’t, because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
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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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I swore I'd be in Chicago tomorrow, and made sure of that, taking a bus to Chicago, spending most of my money, and didn't give a damn, just as long as I'd be in Chicago tomorrow.
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Forgive everyone for your own sins and be sure to tell them you love them which you do.
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You'd be surprised how little I knew even up to yesterday
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There's wisdom in wine.
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Nothing ever happened - Not even this
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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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My eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears.
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and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear?
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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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Somebody had tipped the American continent like a pinball machine and all the goofballs had come rolling to LA in the southwest corner. I cried for all of us. There was no end to the American sadness and the American madness. Someday we'll all start laughing and roll on the ground when we realize how funny it's been.
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and the stars were icicles of mockery
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I promise I shall never give up, and that I'll die yelling & laughing.
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...and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.
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Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.
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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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My aunt once said that the world would never find peace until men fell at their women's feet and asked for forgiveness.
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What's your road, man? - holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. Where body how?
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