Happy birthday, Jack Kerouac!

“Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.”

“Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?”

“I feel guilty for being a member of the human race.”

“I’m writing this book because we’re all going to die.”

“Madroad driving men ahead. The mad road, lonely, leading around the bend into the openings of space towards the horizon Wasatch snows promised us in the vision of the West, spine heights at the world’s end, coast of blue Pacific starry night—nobone halfbanana moons sloping in the tangled night sky, the torments of great formations in mist, the huddled invisible insect in the car racing onwards, illuminate. —The raw cut, the drag, the butte, the star, the draw, the sunflower in the grass—orangebutted west lands of Arcadia, forlorn sands of the isolate earth, dewy exposures to infinity in black space, home of the rattlesnake and the gopher the level of the world, low and flat: the charging restless mute unvoiced road keening in a seizure of tarpaulin power into the route.”

“All of life is a foreign country.”

“I want to work in revelations, not just spin silly tales for money. I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand because they are the same that far down.”

“Accept loss forever.”

“Believe in the holy contour of life.”

“Be in love with your life every detail of it.”

“I am going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children.”

“A sociable smile is nothing but teeth.”