Jack Kerouac
Jack Kerouac
Jack Kerouacwas an American novelist and poet...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth12 March 1922
CityLowell, MA
CountryUnited States of America
writing want what-you-want
If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?
morning stupid hate
I'm stuck struggling in the cold water, and all I can do is grieve, grieve, in the hoar necessitous horror of the morning, bitterly I hate myself, bitterly it's too late yet while I feel better I still feel ephemeral and unreal and unable to straighten my thoughts or even really grieve, in fact I feel too stupid to be really bitter, in short I don't know what I'm doing and I'm being told what to do...
girl past world
So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.
night rainy myth
It was a rainy night. It was the myth of a rainy night.
swimming rivers hardship
I'm right there, swimming the river of hardships but I know how to swim...
serious
It was all completely serious, all completely hallucinated, all completely happy.
stars fades dies
And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.
white ties clouds
Who can leap the world's ties and sit with me among white clouds?
beautiful girl sweet
Her little shoulders drove me mad; I hugged her and hugged her. And she loved it. 'I love love,' she said, closing her eyes. I promised her beautiful love. I gloated over her. Our stories were told; we subsided into silence and sweet anticipatory thoughts. It was as simple as that. You could have all your Peaches and Bettys and Marylous and Ritas and Camilles and Inezes in this world; this was my girl and my kind of girlsoul, and I told her that.
winter men action
I don't wanta hear all your word descriptions of words words words you made up all winter, man I wanta be enlightened by actions.
cat realizing
Cats yawn because they realize that there's nothing to do.
rain wind voice
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.
writing reflection hands
The words are clear as in the reflection of the world on the water. Therefore write the Word at once, everywhere, from now till your hand is paralyzed, for THERE will be your work for GOD, since you can not work for God in other ways, and would not, & don't know how, or bend that way, from habit, & from talent in the use & signification & arrangement of the Word.
stars lines mold
The human bones are but vain lines dawdling, the whole universe a blank mold of stars.