Quotes About Freedom

I have finally taught Dean that he can do anything he wants, become mayor of Denver, marry a millionairess, or become the greatest poet since Rimbaud. But he keeps rushing out to see the midget auto races

I'd rather die than be famous, I want to go live in the desert With long wild hair, eating At my campfire, full of sand

When daybreak came we were zooming through New Jersey with the great cloud of Metropolitan New York rising before us in the snowy distance. Dean had a sweater wrapped around his ears to keep warm. He said we were a band of Arabs coming in to blow up New York.

Now we were on the great Texas plain and, as Dean said, You drive and drive and you're still in Texas tomorrow night.

With frantic Dean I was rushing through the world without a chance to see it.

It was remarkable how Dean could go mad and then suddenly continue with his soul - which I think is wrapped up in a fast car, a coast to reach, and a woman at the end of the road - calmly and sanely as though nothing had happened.

I have finally taught Dean that he can do anything he wants, become mayor of Denver, marry a millionaires, or become the greatest poet since Rimbaud. But he keeps rushing out to see the midget auto races. I go with him.

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

It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow

It was a joy, though, to get down into the valley and lose sight of all that open sky space underneath everything and finally, as it got graying five o'clocking, about a hundred yards from the other boys and walking alone, to just pick my way singing and thinking along the little black cruds of a deer trail through the rocks, no call to think or look ahead or worry, just follow the little balls of deer crud with your eyes cast down and enjoy life.

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise, On The Road

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!»

But no matter, the road is life.

As we rode in the bus in the weird phosphorescent void of the Lincoln Tunnel we leaned on each other with fingers waving and yelled and talked excitedly, and I was beginning to get the bug like Dean.

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

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running - that's the way to live.

I told you it was kicks. Everybody's kicks, man!

What are you going to do with yourself, Ed? I asked. I don't know, he said. I just go along. I dig life. He repeated it, following Dean's line. He had no direction. He sat reminiscing about that night in Chicago and the hot coffee cakes in the lonely room.

Es que el mundo que nos rodea es demasiado grande, y es el adios. Pero nos lanzamos hacia adelante en busca de la proxima aventura disparatada bajo los cielos.

I'd rather walk than ride the airplane, I can fall on the ground flat on my face and die that way.

Whoo, Frisco nights, the end of the continent and the end of doubt, all dull doubt and tomfoolery, good-by

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

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

All I want from this book is a living, enough money to make a living, buy a farm and some land, work it, write some more, travel a little, and so on.