Books, shmooks, this sickness has got me wishing if I can ever get out of this I'll gladly become a millworker and shut my big mouth.
Jack KerouacVanity of vanitiesโฆ all is vanity.โ You kill yourself to get to the grave. Especially you kill yourself to get to the grave before you die; and the name of the grave is โsuccessโ, the name of that grave is hullabullo boom boom horseshit.
Jack KerouacAnd what does the rain say at night in a small town, what does the rain have to say? Who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain? Who is there in the rainโs million-needled blurring splash, listening to the grave music of the rain at night, September rain, September rain, so dark and soft? Who is there listening to steady level roaring rain all around, brooding and listening and waiting, in the rain-washed, rain-twinkled dark of night?
Jack Kerouac