If you own a rug you own too much.
Jack KerouacTags: beat
Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
The unspeakable visions of the individual.
Jack KerouacTags: poetics
When I got better I realized what a rat he was, but then I had to understand the impossible complexity of his life, how he had to leave me there, sick, to get on with his wives and woes.
Jack KerouacI ate apple pie and ice cream—it was getting better as I got deeper into Iowa, the pie bigger, the ice cream richer. There were the most beautiful bevies of girls everywhere I looked in Des Moines that afternoon—they were coming home from high school—but I had no time for thoughts like that…So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.
Jack KerouacTags: on-the-road des-moines
Wash your dirty dishes like you are washing the infant Jesus.
Jack KerouacNothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.
Jack KerouacI wished I was on the same bus as her. A pain stabbed my heart as it did everytime I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world of ours.
Jack KerouacThe details are the life of it, I insist, say everything on your mind, don’t hold back, don’t analyze or anything as you go along, say it out.
Jack KerouacTo make the sea your own, to watch over it, to brood your very soul into it, to accept it and love it as though only it mattered and existed.
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