Jack Kerouac Quotes

I'm all over the place.

My poor head is in such a whirl, my mind is all in bits.

We live in a bewildering world.

One of my biggest problems is I get bored too easily, and I like to experiment too much, to the point where I confuse myself and I confuse my fans.

I don't recognize my former self. Like I'm on the outside looking in at my life. Who is that guy?

I didn't know what was going through my mind.

I have no idea what I'm doin'. I've never seen me.

I can get a little scattered and want to be everywhere and want to do everything for everyone.

I just don't know where my head is sometimes.

Nothing made sense to me anymore. I knew I was young, I knew I was small. But I was worried that I might already be ruined.

There’s a massive glitter ball in my head and it has never stopped turning

My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.

Endless moons, an opaque universe, thunder, tornadoes, the quaking earth. Rare moments of peace; forehead up against my knees, arms around my head, I though, I listened, I longed not to exist. but life was there, a transparent pearl, a star revolving slowly on its own axis.

And then she had to fill out so many forms she forgot why she had come and what she had left behind.

The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.

Things are going round and round in my head--or maybe my head is going round and round in things.

Static in my head, the reflected sound of everything, tried to go to where it led, but it didn't lead to anything.

I have no balance. My life is a hot mess.

I am overrun, infested with a menagerie of desires.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

I guess I don't really know what I want to do, either. Sometimes I feel like a shook-up bottle of soda. Like, I have all this passion that wants to explode, but I don't know where to aim it yet.

All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new.)

There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you're high it's tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars....But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against-you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable....It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.

Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?