Quotes from Jack Kerouac

I've just figured out she is thirty-one-and-a-quarter-per-cent English, twenty-seven-and-a-half-per-cent Irish, twenty-five-per-cent German, eighty-and-three-quarters-per-cent Dutch, seven-and-a-half-per-cent Scotch, one-hundred-per-cent wonderful.

Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk-real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.

Man ain't safe going around this country anymore without a gun.

There he was, my chipmunk, in the bright clear windy sunny air staring on the rock; hands clasping he sat up straight, some little oat between his paws; he nibbled, he darted away, the little nutty lord of all he surveyed.

It never occurs to you that life is serious and there are people trying to make something decent out of it instead of just goofing all the time. That's what Dean was, the Holy Goof.

nothing could disturb this wise calm, this sanity of soul

We saw both of these things six times each during the night. We saw them waking, we heard them sleeping, we sensed them dreaming, we were permeated completely with the strange Gray Myth of the West and the weird dark Myth of the East when morning came. All my actions since then have been dictated automatically to my subconscious by this horrible osmotic experience.

He was BEAT - the root, the soul of Beatific.

O sad American night!

Art has been for me, when I did not deceive myself, a meager compensation for what I desire. I am bored with these frantic cravings, tired of them and therefore myself, and contemptuous, though tolerant, of all my vast powers of self-pity and self-expressive misery. What am I? What do I seek?

He [William S Burroughs] has no patience for my kind of neurosis, I know... But since then I've been facing my nature full in the face and the result is a purge.

Because I am Beat, I believe in Beatitude and that God so loved the world He gave His only begotten Son to it.

Hay tantas cosas que hacer, tantas cosas que escribir! Cuánto se necesita, incluso para empezar a dar cuenta de todo sin los frenos distorsionadores y los cuelgues como esas inhibiciones literarias y los miedos gramaticales…

Nothing else in the world matters but the kindness of grace, God's gift to suffering mortals

Sam widzia?e?, jak si? szarpa?em i urabia?em sobie ty?ek, ?eby wyj?? z twarz?, ale sam wiesz, ?e to si? nie liczy, bo obaj wiemy, co to czas... jak go spowalnia?.

I liked this one One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple. --Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

Viviamo per desiderare, e cosi farò anch'io, e balzerò giù da questa montagna sapendo tutto alla perfezione o non sapendo tutto alla perfezione, pieno di splendida ignoranza in cerca di una scintilla altrove.

But it was that beautiful cut of clouds I could always see above the little S.P. alley, puffs floating by from Oakland or the Gate of Marin to the north or San Jose south, the clarity of Cal to break your heart. It was the fantastic drowse and drum hum of lum mum afternoon nathin' to do, ole Frisco with end of land sadness

Nunca me reprochó que le hubiera quitado a la chica; al contrario, eso siempre nos había unido aún más; era un amigo leal y me quería de verdad, Dios sabe por qué

He would have had to roam the entire United States and look in every garbage pail from coast to coast before he found me embryonically convoluted among the rubbishes of my life, his life, and the life of everybody concerned and not concerned.

Because in the end, you won't remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain

Beat doesn't mean tired or bushed, so much as it means beato, the Italian for beatific: to be in a state of beatitude, like St. Francis, trying to love all life, trying to be utterly sincere with everyone, practicing endurance, kindness, cultivating joy of heart. How can this be done in our mad modern world of multiplicities and millions? By practicing a little solitude, going off by yourself once in a while to store up that most precious of goals: the vibrations of sincerity.

The hobo has two watches you can't buy at Tiffany's, on one wrist the sun, on the other wrist the moon, both bands are made of sky.

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