Love her Sings the sea Bluely Moaning — Jack Kerouac, from “74th Chorus,” San Francisco Blues (Penguin, 1995)
My eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears. ― Jack Kerouac, Atop an Underwood: Early Stories and Other Writings. (Penguin Books; Fourth Printing edition, November 1, 2000) Originally published November 1st 1999.
The silence is so intense that you can hear your own blood roar in your ears but louder than that by far is the mysterious roar which I always identify with the roaring of the diamond wisdom, the mysterious roar of silence itself, which is a great Shhhh reminding you of something you’ve seemed to… Continue reading Jack Kerouac
One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple. — Jack Kerouac, The DharmaBums. (Penguin Books; Reissue edition May 27, 1976) Originally published 1958.
Beat doesn’t mean tired or bushed, so much as it means beato, the Italian for beatific: to be in a state of beatitude, like St. Francis, trying to love all life, trying to be utterly sincere with everyone, practicing endurance, kindness, cultivating joy of heart. How can this be done in our mad modern world… Continue reading Jack Kerouac
She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost; like drowning in a witches’ brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike. ― Jack Kerouac, Maggie Cassidy. (Avon 1959)
I ached all over for her; I leaned my head in her beautiful hair. 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… Continue reading Jack Kerouac