i keep finding things that others have said so well. things that i've felt in feelings and colors and notions perhaps hundreds of times better, but that they have expressed in words a million times better, where "hundreds" and "a million" mean anything, except what others, long time ago, have agreed they do. i'm keeping those findings and i'm grinning when they're not looking. not because i'm jealous, but because i'm overwhelmed.
“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!”
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
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