Reading "On the Road" in the
plane - a bit of an odd transition after Buddhist meditation but bizarrely
fitting somehow.
“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, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like
spiders across the stars.”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road
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