Quotes from Jack Kerouac

You can't live in this world but there's no where else to go.

I wasn't scare, I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

I made love to her in the sweetness of the weary morning. Then, two tired angels of some kind, hung-up forlornly in an LA shelf, having found the closest and most delicious thing in life together, we fell asleep and slept till late afternoon.

There's the hum of the bee drone two blocks away the racket of it you'd think it was right over the roof, when the bee drone swirls nearer and nearer (gulp again) you retreat into the cabin and wait, maybe they got a message to come and see you all two thousand of em- but gettin used to the bee drone finally which seem to happen like a big party once a week- and so everything is eventually marvelous.

So even that marvelous, long remembrances of life all the time in the world to just sit there or lie there or walk about slowly remembering all the details of life which now because a million lightyears away have taken on the aspect (as they must've for Proust in his sealed room) of pleasant movies brought up at will and projected for further study ? And pleasure ? As I imagine God to be doing this very minute, watching his own movie, which is us.

They were like the man with the dungeon stone and gloom, rising from the underground, the sordid hipsters of America, a new beat generation that I was slowly joining.

The American police are involved in psychological warfare against those Americans who don't frighten them with imposing papers and threats. It's a Victorian police force; it peers out of musty windows and wants to inquire about everything, and can make crimes if the crimes don't exist to its satisfaction.

I'm back in these regions of fumbling dark uncertain creation, but it's my one and only world, and I'll do the best I can.

Sunday morning,I empty of my little tricks to make life livable.

But let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious.

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.