Quotes About Freedom

Life is not an apology.

The whole purpose of mountain-climbing to me isn't just to show off you can get to the top, it's getting out to this wild country.

They found it, they lost, they wrestled for it, they found it again, they laughed, they moaned—and Dean sweated at the table and told them to go, go, go. At nine o'clock in the morning everybody—musicians, girls in slacks, bartenders, and the one little skinny, unhappy trombonist—staggered out of the club into the great roar of Chicago day to sleep until the wild bop night again.

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!

The endless poem.

Bull had a sentimental streak about the old days in America, especially 1910, when you could get morphine in a drugstore without prescription and Chinese smoked opium. in their evening windows and the country was wild and brawling and free, with abundance and any kind of freedom for everyone. His chief hate was Washington bureaucracy; second to that, liberals; then cops.

arrastraba los pies tras ellos como he venido haciendo toda mi vida con la gente que me interesa, porque la única gente que me interesa es la que está loca, la que está loca por vivir, por hablar, ávida de todas las cosas a un tiempo, la gente que jamás bosteza o dice un lugar común..., sino que arde, arde, arde como candelas romanas en medio de la noche.

One night in a meditation vision Avalokitesvara the Hearer and Answerer of Prayer said to me 'You are empowered to remind people that they are utterly free' so I laid my hand on myself to remind myself first and then felt gay, yelled 'Ta,' opened my eyes, and a shooting star shot.

Like the ants that have nothing to do but dig all day, I have nothing to do but do what I want and be kind and remain nevertheless uninfluenced by imaginary judgments and pray for the light.

He began to learn Yes! to everything, just like Dean at this time, and hasn't stopped since.

He said we were a band of Arabs coming in to blow up New York.

and only because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere

Diamo e prendiamo e penetriamo in dolcezze incredibilmente complicate andando a zig zag da qualsiasi parte.

the road is life.

It's all a sea, I swim out of its in the afternoons.

I looked greedily out the window: stucco houses and palms and drive-ins, the whole mad thing, the ragged promised land, the fantastic end of America.

I think of Dean Moriarty.

Great beautiful clouds floated overhead, valley clouds that made you feel the vastness of old tumbledown holy America from mouth to mouth and tip to tip.

Hopping a freight out of Los Angeles at high noon one day in late September 1955 I got on a gondola and lay down with my duffel bag under my head and my knees crossed and contemplated the clouds as we rolled north to Santa Barbara.

A western kinsman of the sun, Dean. Although my aunt warned me that he would get me in trouble, I could hear a new call and see a new horizon, and believe it at my young age; and a little bit of trouble or even Dean's eventual rejection of me as a buddy, putting me down, as he would later, on starving sidewalks and sickbeds—what did it matter? I was a young writer and I wanted to take off.

In the West he'd spent a third of his time in the poolhall, a third in jail, and a third in the public library. They'd seen him rushing eagerly down the winter streets, bareheaded, carrying books to the poolhall, or climbing trees to get into the attics of buddies where he spent days reading or hiding from the law.

To Slim Gaillard the whole world was just one big orooni.

There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars...

Actually we were; the car was swaying as Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank tranced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives.