Jack Kerouac

There was nothing to talk about anymore. The only thing to do was go.

He and I suddenly saw the whole country like an oyster for us to open; and the pearl was there, the pearl was there.

I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air - air you can kiss - and palms.

...but I preferred reading the American landscape as we went along. Every bump, rise, and stretch in it mystified my longing.

It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.

because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars...

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-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.

One man practicing kindness in the wilderness is worth all the temples this world pulls.

Jesus was a strange hobo who walked on water_

I realize all the uncountable manifestations the thinking-mind invents to place wall of horror before its pure perfect realization that there is no wall and no horror just Transcendental Empty Kissable Milk Light of Everlasting Eternity's true and perfectly empty nature.

We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when He made life so sad. We made vague plans to meet in Frisco.

Never dreaming, was I, poor Jack Duluoz, that the soul is dead. That from Heaven grace descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail to tell me; no example inside my first and only skin. That love is the heritage, and cousin to death. That the only love can only be the first love, the only death the last, the only life within, and the only word . . . choked forever.

Who has believed in the world and died with its name on his lips?

Yet this book is to prove that no matter how you travel, how 'successful' your tour, or foreshortened, you always learn something and learn to change your thoughts.

Aw I don't wanta go to no such thing, I just wanta drink in alleys.'...But you'll miss all that, just for some old wine.'There's wisdom in wine, goddam it!' I yelled. 'Have a shot!

I feel impossibly sad and like I'll die, what can we do?

The innumerable worlds in the Milky Way, words.

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