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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.

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
Joy
Incubator
Wonder
Psychotic
Written
Wonders
Happiness
Madness
Born
Sorrow
Fear
Ignorance
Kind
Gets
Way
Novel

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all I wanted to do was sneak out into the night and disappear somewhere, and go and find out what everybody was doing all over the country.
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Who doesn't feel studious when he doesn't have a girl with a Riviera suntan?
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It all ends in tears anyway.
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Better to sleep in an uncomfortable bed free, than sleep in a comfortable bed unfree.
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Prison is where you promise yourself the right to live.
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My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.
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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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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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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.
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February dawn -- frost on the path Where I paced all winter.
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Burroughs is the greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift.
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Life must be rich and full of loving--it's no good otherwise, no good at all, for anyone.
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Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind.
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I was having a wonderful time and the whole world opened up before me because I had no dreams.
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The unspeakable visions of the individual.
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He had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.
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