Quotes About Adventure

If I ever went to Paris,' said Francis, unexpectedly pensive, 'I think I would be very happy...

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise

All over America highschool and college kids thinking 'Jack Duluoz is 26 years old and on the road all the time hitch hiking' while there I am almost 40 years old, bored and jaded

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.

What's your road, man? – holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow.

Si seguis asi vais a volveros locos, pero por favor mantenedme al corriente de lo que os sucede en el camino.

We were so used to traveling we had to walk all over Long Island, but there was no more land, just the Atlantic Ocean, and we could only go so far.

I woke up from a deep sleep to find everybody sleeping like lambs and the car parked God knows where, because I couldn't see out the steamy windows. I got out of the car. We were in the mountains: there was a heaven of sunrise, cool purple airs, red mountainsides, emerald pastures in valleys, dew, and transmuting clouds of gold; on the ground gopher holes, cactus, mesquite. It was time for me to drive on.

I walked around the sad honkytonks of Curtis Street; young kids in jeans and red shirts; peanut shells, movie marquees, shooting parlours. Beyond the glittering street was darkness, and beyond the darkness the West. I had to go.

Pero ¿por que pensar en eso cuando la tierra dorada se extendía delante de nosotros y estaban acechándonos todo tipo de acontecimientos imprevistos para sorprendernos y hacer que nos alegráramos de estar vivos y verlos?

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till 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 venture beneath the skies. We

There's nothing wrong with you Ray, your only trouble is you never learned to get out to spots like this, you've let the world drown you in its horseshit and you've been vexed... though as I say comparisons _are_ odious, but what we're saying now is true.

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till 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 venture beneath the skies.

C'è sempre qualcosa di più, un po' più in là... non finisce mai.

Nulla dietro di me, tutto avanti, è sempre così sulla strada...

We live to long, so long I will, and jounce down that mountain highest perfect knowing or no highest perfect knowing full of glorious ignorant looking to sparkle elsewhere-

because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!

Qual è la tua strada, amico?... la strada del santo, la strada del pazzo, la strada dell'arcobaleno, la strada dell' imbecille, qualsiasi strada. È una strada in tutte le direzioni per tutti gli uomini in tutti i modi. Che direzione che uomo che modo?»

because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" What

Hopalong Cassidy conducting his great white horse across the traffic;

And so we picked up our bags, he the trunk with his one good arm and I the rest, and staggered up to the cable-car stop; in a moment rolled down the hill with our legs dangling to the sidewalk from the jiggling shelf, two broken-down heroes of the Western night.

Con la aparición de Dean Moriarty comenzó la parte de mi vida que podría llamarse mi vida en la carretera

Be in love with yr life

Put down the pen someone else gave you. No one ever drafted a life worth living on borrowed ink. Get to San Francisco. Get to San Francisco in defiance of your geography, your ancestry and the lonely change rattling sad excuses in your pocket. Fuel up on pie and diner coffee and mystic visions and the freedom of not knowing what's coming next except that you're burning the road to outrun it.