I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution thousands or even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, maki...
I remember him standing under a streetlamp.'Just as we passed that other lamp I was going to tell you a further thing, Sal, but now I am parenthetically continuing with a new thought and by the time w...
I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on t...
I never saw such crazy musicians. Everybody in Frisco blew. It was the end of the continent; they didn't give a damn.
I had nothing to offer anybody except for my own confusion
I felt the sensation of each of the directions I mentally and emotionally turned into amazed at all the possible directions you can take with different motives that come in like it can make you a diff...
I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a...
And as far as I can see the world is too old for us to talk about it with our new words We will pass just as quietly through life (passing through, passing through) as the 10th century people of this...
نزلتُ من
The only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing.. but burn, b...
This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise, On The Road
The sight of the canyon down there as we renegotiated the mountain road made me bite my lip with marvel and sadness.It's as familiar as an old face in an old photograph as tho I'm gone a million years...
The empty blue sky of space says 'All this comes back to me, then goes again, and comes back again, then goes again, and I don't care, it still belongs to me
The beauty of things must be that they end.
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.
Sunday morning,I empty of my little tricks to make life livable.
She talks with a broken heart - Her voice lutes brokenly like a heart lost, musically too, like in a lost grove, it's almost too much to bear sometimes like some fantastic futuristic Jerry Southern si...
Ray, what you got to do is go climb a mountain...
Parade my trouble in front of you guys? Make you realize that my heart is broken . . . that as long as I live I'll have chains dragging me down to the oceans of sad tears that my feet are wet in alrea...
Of course world travel isn't as good as it seems, it's only after you've come back from all the heat and horror that you forget to get bugged and remember the weird scenes you saw