Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

Dean was having his kicks; he put on a Jazz record, grabbed Marylou, held her tight, and bounced back against her with the beat of the music. She bounced right back. It was a real love dance.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

We roared into New York, swerving on ice. I was never scared when Dean drove; he could handle a car under any circumstances. The radio had been fixed and now he had wild bop to urge us along the night. I didn’t know where this was all leading; I didn’t care.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

The madness of Dean had bloomed into a weird flower. I didn’t realize this at first’

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

He saw a ‘49 Hudson for sale and rushed to the bank for his entire roll. He bought the car on the spot. Ed Dunkel was with him. Now they were broke. Dean calmed Camille’s fears and told her he’s be back in a month. ‘I’m going to New York and bring Sal back.’

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

But now the bug was on me again, and the bug’s name was Dean Moriarty and I was off on another spurt around the road.

On The Road - Jack Kerouac

We packed my brothers furniture in the back of the car and took off at dark, promising to be back in thirty hours- thirty hours for a thousand miles north and south.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

Suddenly I found myself on Times Square. I had traveled eight thousand miles around the American continent and I was back on Times Square.; and right in the middle of rush hour, too, seeing with my innocent road-eyes the absolute madness and fantastic hoorair of New York with its millions and millions hustling forever for a buck among themselves, the mad dream - grabbing taking, giving, sighing, dying, just so they could be buried in those awful cemetery cities beyond Long Island City.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

I had three hundred and sixty five miles yet to hitchhike to New York, and a dime in my pocket.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road