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
My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them. – Jack Kerouac
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