Jack Kerouac Quotes

Hey sky, take off your hat, I'm on my way!

Travel. It was an intransitive verb. It didn't involve any destinations. It was going to the going's sake, to be anywhere but where you were, with motion itself as the only object.

Tourists don't know where they've been, travelers don't know where they're going.

The story of 'Highway' is completely about travel. It is about the fascination of travel to an extent that I don't want to even reach the destination and also being away from society gives you a certain view of the society, so that was the intention of the film.

I am a voyager - and the voyage cannot mean that I stay at home.

For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.

I haven't found anywhere in the world where I want to be all the time. The best of my life is the moving. I look forward to going.

To reach a port, we must sail - sail, not tie at anchor - sail, not drift.

The journey is my home.

My life is the road, man. I need to keep moving.

Where we are going, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be the place that is important but the steps in between.

Here today, up and off to somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The whole world before you, and a horizon that's always changing!

We're on a road to nowhere, come on inside. Takin' that ride to nowhere, we'll take that ride. I'm feelin' okay this mornin', and you know, we're on the road to paradise, here we go, here we go.

To travel like a bird, lightly to view: Deserts where stone gods founder in the sand,: Ocean embraced in a white sleep with land;: To escape time, always to start anew...: Hooded by a dark sense of destination...: Travelers, we're fabric of the road we go; We settle, but like feathers on time's flow.

We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still.

But this road doesn't go anywhere,” I told him. “That doesn't matter.” “What does?” I asked, after a little while. “Just that we're on it, dude,” he said.

travel [is] flight and pursuit in equal parts.

Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.

Everything good is on the highway.

The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself.

Here we are on the road. We must be going somewhere.

My direction? Anywhere. Because one is always nearer by not keeping still.

The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say

I leave, and the leaving is so exhilarating I know I can never go back. But then what? Do I just keep leaving places, and leaving them, and leaving them, tramping a perpetual journey?

So I started out for God knows where. I guess I'll know when I get there.