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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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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
Bones
Saws
Eyes
Eye
Threading
Night
Mud
Grave
Closed
Graves

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So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.
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My life is a vast inconsequential epic.
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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
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The beauty of things must be that they end.
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My shoes are clean from walking in the rain.
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I just won't sleep, I decided. There were so many other interesting things to do.
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Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind.
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I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.
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It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.
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Because anybody can write, but not everybody invents new forms of writing. Gertrude Stein invented a new form of writing and her imitators are just talents.
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Dean's California--wild, sweaty, important, the land of lonely and exiled and eccentric lovers come to forgather like birds, and the land where everybody somehow looked like broken-down, handsome, decadent movie actors.
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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?
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don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work.
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There was nothing to talk about anymore. The only thing to do was go.
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Genius gives birth, talent delivers. What Rembrandt or Van Gogh saw in the night can never be seen again.
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February dawn -- frost on the path Where I paced all winter.
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but that's alright because now everything'll be alright & we'll soothe the forever boys & girls & before we're thru we'll find a name for this Goddam Golden Eternity & tell a story too
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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.
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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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