Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Jack Kerouac

Quote by Jack Kerouac

Work

Jack Kerouac Selected Letters 1940-1956

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Jack Kerouac
Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac, born on March 12, 1922, in Lowell, Massachusetts, was an influential American novelist. Known for his autobiographical novels and beat literature, his most famous work is 'On the Road'. Kerouac's writings had a profound impact on American culture in the 1960s. more

You May Also Like

“It would be an account of love and duty, not just anger and hatred, and it would be filled with dreams, and the memory of having once looked to the future, and an eagerness to dream again. It would be boring, because you simply had to be there. It would be poetry and not history. ...the deep ambivalence you once felt toward a song that now devastated you...the look when someone recognizes you. I'm going to write about all this one day, I told her, and she smiled at me.”

NostalgiaMemoirAdulthood
Book:Stay True
Create image

“18. yüzyılın ruh sağlığına ilgi duyan hekimleri sıla özlemini ve evden uzakta, gurbette olmanın acısını "nostalgia" kavramıyla ifade etmişlerdir. Bu sözcük 1688'de ilk defa kullanılmış ve daha çok evlerinden uzaktaki çökkün paralı askerlerde tanımlanmıştır. Bulgular ve teşhis, neden ve tedavi üzerine tezler kaleme alınmış; sonunda en iyi tedavinin nostus (eve dönüş) olduğunda fikir birliğine varılmıştır.”

NostalgiaEve DönüşNostus
Book:Özgürlüğün Baş Dönmesi
Create image

“کوئی وقت تھا کہ ہر موسم ایسے اپنی آمد کا اعلان کرتا تھا، جیسے کوئی پُرانی اور مہذب معاشرت کا علمبردار مسافر فصیل شہر کے باہری بلند دروازے کے سامنے کھڑا شسُتہ لہجے میں اندر آنے کی اجازت مانگے۔ فصیل شہر سے جب محافظ نیچے جھانکنیں تو انھیں ایک خوش پوشاک اور معتبر ہستی نظر آئے۔ جس کے انداز، لباس، اسلوب اور مختصر مگر نفیس زادِراہ سے اس کی ذات میں مضمر کئی صدیوں کی تمدنی اور اخلاقی رعنائی ٹپکتی ہو۔ کچھ اس طرح آتے تھے کبھی موسم میرے اس شہر میں۔”

NostalgiaLahore
Book:Ghuroob e Shehr Ka Waqt غروبِ شہر کا وقت
Create image

“Ned was at once reminded of the past, the time before his mother had become ill. He imagined the three of them dancing down the living room holding hands, or skipping stones down by the Hudson River on a little muddy strip of shore where cattails grew and large damp toads hid behind rocks and the days were always sunny. He knew it couldn't have been like that; he knew it must have rained and stormed, that they hadn't spent all their time dancing and skipping stones and laughing together, yet it felt as though they had. It was the time he'd been happy and hadn't known it. When he was happy now, he would remind himself he was. He would say, At this moment I'm happy, and that was different from simply being a certain way and not having to give it a name.”

DepressionNostalgiaDissociation
Book:One-Eyed Cat
Create image