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 and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’
Jack Kerouac, of course
In high school, Dan and I were good friends with a beautiful, precocious girl named Julia Burke, who died in a car accident when she was sixteen years old. They read this quote at her funeral, and I’ve never forgotten it.
I’ve been chasing people like this ever since.
