Our battered suitcase were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.
Because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars…
Because the only people that interest are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
My aunt once said that the world would never find peace until men fell at their women’s feet and asked for forgiveness.
Someday we’ll all start laughing and roll on the ground when we realize how funny it’s been, until then there is a lugubrious seriousness I love in all this.
I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds.
I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.
I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future.
What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?
It’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.
Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.
__ by Jack Kerouac