“The only people for me 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…

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It’s the birthday of American writer Jack Kerouac (books by this author), Lowell, Massachusetts (1922). He is best known for his iconic Beat Generation novel, On the Road (1957), in which poetic drifter Sal Paradise knocks about the United States with his pal Dean Moriarty. In the book, Sal says:
“The only people for me 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 like fabulous yellow roman candles.”

About writing, he said:
“You think out what actually happened, you tell friends long stories about it, you mull it over in your mind, you connect it together at leisure, then when the time comes to pay the rent again you force yourself to sit at the typewriter, or at the writing notebook, and get it over with as fast as you can,” and  “I’m only a jolly storyteller and have nothing to do with politics or schemes and my only plan is the old Chinese way of the Tao: Avoid the authorities.”

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