..'' ve kimse ama kimse bilmiyor kimseye yaşlanmanın perişan süprüntülerinden başka ne olacağını; ve ben Neal Cassady'yi anıyorum ve anıyorum, hatta asla bulamadığımız yaşlı babası Neal Cassady'yi; ve Neal Cassady'yi anıyorum. Neal Cassady'yi anıyorum.
Jack KerouacTag: on-the-road jack-kerouac neal-cassady lastwords yolda
Maybe I can learn to live in a way that makes it worth writing about, and maybe I can actually become something more than this empty shell.
Charlotte ErikssonTag: growing-up writing change alone on-the-road independent become into-the-wild songwriter
All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me, and be okay with that. I had no need for material possessions, money or even close friends with me on my journey. I never understood people very well anyway, and they never seemed to understand me very well either. All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality. I wanted the open road and new beginnings every day.
Charlotte ErikssonTag: journey free be-yourself alone on-the-road misunderstood wanderlust journaling touring new-beginning
I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed out my words. I want to get all fucked up and write raw and ugly about all these things I see and am and could be.
Charlotte ErikssonTag: art writing real-life excitement artists on-the-road prose writer raw
I didn't know what to say. I felt like crying, Goddammit everybody in the world wants an explanation for your acts and for your very being.
Jack KerouacTag: on-the-road jack-kerouac
We all grew up, those of us who took On the Road to heart. We came to cringe a little at our old favorite poet, concluding that God was likely never Pooh Bear, that sometimes New York and California could be just as isolated as our provincial hometown, and that grown men didn't run back and forth all the time bleeding soup and sympathy out of sucker women. But those are just details, really. We got what we needed, namely a passion for unlikely words, the willingness to improvise, a distrust of authority, and a sentimental attachment to a certain America....
Sarah VowellTag: isolation on-the-road modernism kerouac
The open road. Seemingly my only friend for years upon end since leaving war. The road embraced me, let me breathe, and more importantly, did not judge me.
M.B. DallocchioTag: travel on-the-road therapy ptsd the-desert-warrior
Fuck Kerouac; he would write his own story.
Linda CollisonTag: on-the-road coming-of-age 21st-century-road-trip runaway-teens
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