Quotes from Jack Kerouac

We came down off this meadow down deep into a redwood forest then up again, again so steeply that we were cursing and sweating in the dust. Trails are like that: you're floating along in a Shakespearean Arden paradise and expect to see nymphs and fluteboys, then suddenly you're struggling in a hot broiling sun of hell in dust and nettles and poison oak…just like life.

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 burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.

He was very lonely, he wanted to get back to New York. It was sad to see his tall figure receding in the dark as we drove away, just like the other figures in New York and New Orleans: they stand uncertainly underneath immense skies, and everything about them is drowned. Where go? what do? what for?—sleep. But this foolish gang was bending onward.

Shearing began to play his chords; they rolled out of the piano in great rich showers

I love the way everybody says "LA" on the Coast; it's their one and only golden town when all is said and done.

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and thry recede on the plain til you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy adventure beneath the skies.

I went to sit in the bus station and think this over. I ate another apple pie and ice cream; that's practically all I ate all the way across the country, I knew it was nutritious and it was delicious, of course.

Mudface is the mud in your goatface. What would you say if someone was asked the question 'Does a dog have a Buddha nature?' and said 'Woof!

Shearing began to play his chords; they rolled out of the piano in great rich showers, you'd think the man wouldn't have time to line them up. They rolled and rolled like the sea.

the whole thing was hopeless, besides which Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop.

Joe gibilerin her ÅŸeyi berbat etmesine izin verilemezdi. Peki neydi bu her ÅŸey? Bu, bir yaÅŸam biçimiydi, denizde sürdürülen bir yaÅŸam biçimi; eÅŸitlikti, payla??md?, birliktelikti, ortak huzurdu... Kötülük edenin icab?na hemen bak?ld???, adil insanlar?n duracaklar? yeri bildikleri, kaya gibi saÄŸlam bir kardeÅŸlikti muhakkak.

This is the story of America. Everybody's doing what they think they're supposed to do. So what

crotch-eared mean-ass

We wandered around, carrying our bundles of rags in the narrow romantic streets. Everybody looked like a broken-down movie extra, a withered starlet; disenchanted stunt-men, midget auto-racers, poignant California characters with their end-of-the-continent sadness, handsome, decadent, Casanova-ish men, puffy-eyed motel blondes, hustlers, pimps, whores, masseurs, bellhops—a lemon lot, and how's a man going to make a living with a gang like that?

grasping after life as much as you can because of its sweet sadness and because you would be dead some day.

I want to marry a girl, I told them, so I can rest my soul with her till we both get old.

New York gets god-awful cold in the winter but there's a feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. LA is a jungle.

On the Road be the first book I'd read or heard of with a built-in soundtrack.

You boys going to get somewhere, or just going?

In fact at one point when Billie's up leaning over a chair Dave goes behind Billie and playfully touches her and winks at me, but I'm not of all this like a moron and we could all be having fun such as soldiers dream the day away imagining, dammit—But the venoms in the blood are asexual as well as asocial and a-everything

mind filled with work and a soul fortified with the knowledge of the inevitability of loss—and so goodbye sweet journal, adieu calm book, may the best hearts find you.

We left the car parked, and all three of us abreast went down the Spanish street into the middle of the dull brown lights. Old men sat on chairs in the night and looked like Oriental junkies and oracles. No one was actually looking at us, yet everybody was aware of everything we did.

I'd also gone through an entire year of celibacy based on my feeling that lust was the direct cause of birth which was the direct cause of suffering and death and I had really no lie come to a point where I regarded lust as offensive and even cruel. "Pretty girls make graves

All those Zen Masters throwing young kids in the mud because they can't answer their silly word questions That's because they want them to discover that mud is better than words, boy.