I am not my body. My body is nothing without me.

When men can be made to hope, then they can be made to win.

It was like an allegorical picture of war; the trainload of fresh men gliding proudly up the line, the maimed men sliding slowly down, and all the while the guns on the open trucks making one’s heart leap as guns always do, and reviving that pernicious feeling, so difficult to get rid of, that war is glorious after all.

You’d never care to plant some roots in society, I suppose,” mused the other.

Written By Jack Kerouac

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