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I Want To Marry A [guy], So I Can Rest My Soul With [him] Till We Both Get Old. This Can't Go On All The Time-- All This Franticness And Jumping Around. We've Got To Go Someplace, Find Something.

-Jack Kerouac

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I Want To Marry

Jack Kerouac

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I Want To Marry A [guy], So I Can Rest My Soul With [him] Till We Both Get Old. This Can't Go On All The Time-- All This Franticness And Jumping Around. We've Got To Go Someplace, Find Something.

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We Lay On Our Backs Looking At The Ceiling And Wondering What God Had Wrought When He Made Life So Sad And Disinclined.

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We Turned At A Dozen Paces, For Love Is A Duel, And Looked At Each Other For The Last Time.

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The Cowboy Music Twanged In The Roadhouse And Carried Across The Fields, All Sadness. It Was All Right With Me. I Kissed My Baby And We Put Out The Lights.

The Fact That Everybody In The World Dreams Every Night Ties All Mankind Together.

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But That's Alright Because Now Everything'll Be Alright & We'll Soothe The Forever Boys & Girls & Before We're Thru We'll Find A Name For This Goddam Golden Eternity & Tell A Story Too

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Walking On Water

And Nobody Knows What’s Going To Happen To Anybody Besides The Forlorn Rags Of Growing Old

We Were All Delighted, We All Realized We Were Leaving Confusion And Nonsense Behind And Performing Our One And Noble Function Of The Time, Move.

No Time For Poetry But Exactly What Is.

But I Remember Seeing A Mess Of Leaves Suddenly Go Skittering In The Wind And Into The Creek, Then Floating Rapidly Down The Creek Towards The Sea, Making Me Feel A Nameless Horror Even Then Of 'oh My God, We're All Being Swept Away To Sea No Matter What We Know Or Say Or Do

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There Is Universal Substance Which Is Divine Substance Because Where Else Can It Be?

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Fear Life But Don't Die, Your Alone, Everybody's Alone, Oh Cody Pomeray You Can't Win You Can't Lose All Is Ephemeral All Is Hurt

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One Day I Will Find The Right Words, And They Will Be Simple.

If You Tell A True Story, You Can't Be Wrong.

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The Silence Was An Intense Roar.

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Roaring Dreams Take Place In A Perfectly Silent Mind. Now That We Know This, Throw The Raft Away.

I Have Fallen In Love With You, God. Take Care Of Us All, One Way Or The Other.

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And When The Fog's Over And The Stars And The Moon Come Out At Night It'll Be A Beautiful Sight.

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There Was Nothing To Talk About Anymore. The Only Thing To Do Was Go.

I'd Rather Be Thin Than Famous But I'm Fat Paste That In Your Broadway Show

Details Are The Life Of Prose.

For Life Is Holy And Every Moment Is Precious.

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My Eyes Were Glued On Life And They Were Full Of Tears.

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Dharma Bums Refusing To Subscribe To The General Demand That They Consume Production And Therefore Have To Work For The Privilege Of Consuming, All That Cramp They Didn't Really Want Anyway Such As Refrigerators, Tv Sets, Cars, At Least New Fancy Cars, Certain Hair Oils And Deodorants And General Junk You Finally Always See A Week Later In The Garbage Anyway, All Of Them Imprisoned In A System Of Work, Produce, Consume, Work, Produce, Consume.

I Suddenly Discovered The Delight Of Rebellion.

Sweet Life Continues In The Breeze, In The Golden Fields.

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I Was A Man Of The Earth, Precisely As I Had Dreamed I Would Be.

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Native Language

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It Was A Rainy Night. It Was The Myth Of The Rainy Night.

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You Can't Live In This World But There's Nowhere Else To Go.

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All He Needed Was A Wheel In His Hand And Four On The Road.

I Promise I Shall Never Give Up, And That I'll Die Yelling & Laughing.

Are We Fallen Angels Who Didn't Want To Believe That Nothing Is Nothing And So Were Born To Lose Our Loved Ones And Dear Friends One By One And Finally Our Own Life, To See It Proved?

Because The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones.

I Had Nothing To Offer Anybody Except My Own Confusion.

Work From Pithy Middle Eye Out, Swimming In Language Sea.

The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones, The Ones Who Are Mad To Live, Mad To Talk, Mad To Be Saved.

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There's Wisdom In Wine.

The Truth Of The Matter Is, You Die, All You Do Is Die, And Yet You Live, Yes You Live, And That's No Harvard Lie.

There Are Worse Things Than Being Mad.

Absolutely No Way To Escape Enigmans.

I Rather Like The Idea Of Having All My Hours To Myself: Eating A Fudge Sundae, Watching A Movie, Sleeping On My Couch, Singing In The Bathroom, Studying The Woods, Kidding Around With A Girl, Playing Cards Lazily - All Kinds Of Stuff That American Brands 'shiftless.'

That's The Story Of My Life Rich Or Poor And Mostly Poor And Truly Poor.

Story Of My Life

And The Story Of Love Is A Long Sad Tale Ending In Graves.

It Was All Completely Serious, All Completely Hallucinated, All Completely Happy.

It Ain't Whatcha Write, It's The Way Atcha Write It.

Inspiration To Write

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Rocks Are Space, And Space Is Illusion.

Put Down The Pen Someone Else Gave You. No One Ever Drafted A Life Worth Living On Borrowed Ink.

Life Worth Living

Life Was Dense, Dark, Ancient. They Watched Dean, Serious And Insane At His Raving Wheel, With Eyes Of Hawks. All Had Their Hands Outstretched. They Had Come Down From The Back Mountains And Higher Places To Hold Forth Their Hands For Something They Thought Civilization Could Offer, And They Never Dreamed The Sadness And The Poor Broken Delusion Of It.

The Road Must Eventually Lead To The Whole World.

Your Buddhism Has Made You Mean Ray And Makes You Even Afraid To Take Your Clothes Off For A Simple Healthy Orgy

Maybe That's What Life Is... A Wink Of The Eye And Winking Stars.

The Happiness Consists In Realizing That It Is All A Great Strange Dream.

Nothing Ever Happened - Not Even This

I Suddenly Began To Realize That Everybody In America Is A Natural-born Thief.

He Had Never Felt Anything Like That Before - Yet Somehow He Knew That From Now On He Would Always Feel Like That, Always, And Something Caught At His Throat As He Realized What A Strange Sad Adventure Life Might Get To Be, Strange And Sad And Still Much More Beautiful And Amazing Than He Could Ever Have Imagined Because It Was So Really, Strangely Sad.

I Came To A Point Where I Needed Solitude And Just Stop The Machine Of ‘thinking’ And ‘enjoying’ What They Call ‘living’, I Just Wanted To Lie In The Grass And Look At The Clouds.

When The Railroad Trains Moaned, And River-winds Blew, Bringing Echoes Through The Vale, It Was As If A Wild Hum Of Voices, The Dear Voices Of Everybody He Had Known, Were Crying: "peter, Peter! Where Are You Going, Peter?" And A Big Soft Gust Of Rain Came Down. He Put Up The Collar Of His Jacket, And Bowed His Head, And Hurried Along.

Sometimes I’d Get Mad Because Things Didn’t Work Out So Well, I’d Spoil A Flapjack, Or Slip In The Snowfield While Getting Water, Or One Time My Shovel Went Sailing Down Into The Gorge, And I’d Be So Mad I’d Want To Bite The Mountaintops And Would Come In The Shack And Kick The Cupboard And Hurt My Toe. But Let The Mind Beware, Though The Flesh Be Bugged, The Circumstances Of Existence Are Pretty Glorious.

A Pain Stabbed My Heart As It Did Every Time I Saw A Girl I Loved Who Was Going The Opposite Direction In This Too-big World.

Desolation, Desolation, I Owe So Much To Desolation.

As I Grew Older I Became A Drunk. Why? Because I Like Ecstasy Of The Mind.

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If You Dont [sic] Say What You Want, What's The Sense Of Writing?

Man, Wow, There's So Many Things To Do, So Many Things To Write! How To Even Begin To Get It All Down And Without Modified Restraints And All Hung-up On Like Literary Inhibitions And Grammatical Fears.

Hell Man, I Know Very Well You Didn't Come To Me Only To Want To Become A Writer, And After All What Do I Really Know About It Except That You've Got To Stick To It With The Energy Of A Benny Addict.

Be Crazy Dumbsaint Of The Mind.

Paris Is A Woman But London Is An Independent Man Puffing His Pipe In A Pub.

Ah, You Always Go For The Ones Who Don't Really Want You

One Man Practicing Kindness In The Wilderness Is Worth All The Temples This World Pulls.

The Only Truth Is Music.

Inspirational Music

As Far As I'm Concerned The Only Thing To Do Is Sit In A Room And Get Drunk

Ah, If I Could Realize, If I Could Forget Myself And Devote My Meditations To The Freeing, The Awakening And The Blessedness Of All Living Creatures Everywhere I'd Realize What There Is, Is Ecstasy.

Geniuses Can Be Scintillating And Geniuses Can Be Somber, But It's That Inescapable Sorrowful Depth That Shines Through-originality.

It’s Not That I Can’t Fall In Love. It’s Really That I Can’t Help Falling In Love With Too Many Things All At Once. So, You Must Understand Why I Can’t Distinguish Between What’s Platonic And What Isn’t, Because It’s All Too Much And Not Enough At The Same Time.

Falling In Love

They Have Worries, They're Counting The Miles, They're Thinking About Where To Sleep Tonight, How Much Money For Gas, The Weather, How They'll Get There - And All The Time They'll Get There Anyway, You See.

My Whole Wretched Life Swam Before My Weary Eyes, And I Realized No Matter What You Do It's Bound To Be A Waste Of Time In The End So You Might As Well Go Mad.

I Am Young Now And Can Look Upon My Body And Soul With Pride. But It Will Be Mangled Soon, And Later It Will Begin To Disintegrate, And Then I Shall Die, And Die Conclusively. How Can We Face Such A Fact, And Not Live In Fear?

Burroughs Is The Greatest Satirical Writer Since Jonathan Swift.

Your Mind Makes Out The Orange By Seeing It, Hearing It, Touching It, Smelling It, Tasting It And Thinking About It But Without This Mind, You Call It, The Orange Would Not Be Seen Or Heard Or Smelled Or Tasted Or Even Mentally Noticed, It's Actually, That Orange, Depending On Your Mind To Exist! Don't You See That? By Itself It's A No-thing, It's Really Mental, It's Seen Only Of Your Mind. In Other Words It's Empty And Awake.

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F. Scott Fitzgerald

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