'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 Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.' (From On the Road)
How Faustian... I wonder if everyone picks on that passage? When you read the burn, burn, burn, you'll hear some echoes in my push, push, push. At any rate, the Gaurdian has a spot on report on 'On the road', certainly one of my favourite books. Something that has as much to do with personal history as it has to do with the book itself. But it's that kind of book isn't it?
No comments:
Post a Comment