They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because 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 that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
The purity of the road. The white line in the middle of the highway unrolled and hugged our left front tire as if glued to our groove.
'That proves you are unusual', returned the scarecrow; 'and I am convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world are the unusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves of a tree, and live and die unnoticed.'
L. Frank Baum, The Marvelous Land of Oz
Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’
Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
What’s your road, man? Holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It’s an anywhere road for anybody anyhow.
Jack Kerouac, On the Road, Part 4, Ch. 1
Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.
*so true. this is lovely. this is the way my mind works. sometimes it’s chaotic and challenging, but most of the time it is just pure bliss up in this noggin’.
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