"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state and our educational system. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us."
(Charles Bukowski)

"Van Gogh writing his brother for paints
Hemingway testing his shotgun
Celine going broke as a doctor of medicine
the impossibility of being human
Shakespeare a plagiarist
Beethoven with a horn stuck into his head against deafness
the impossibility the impossibility
Nietzsche gone totally mad
the impossibility of being human
all too human
this breathing
in and out
out and in
these punks
these cowards
these champions
these mad dogs of glory
moving this little bit of light toward us
impossibly."
(Charles Bukowski)

"What passed for society was a loud, giddy whirl of thieves and pretentious hustlers, a dull sideshow full of quacks and clowns and philistines with gimp mentalities."
(Hunter S Thompson)

"Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry."
(Jack Kerouac)

"Who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived, or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?"
(Hunter S Thompson)

"The road must eventually lead to the whole world. Ain't nowhere else it can go - right?"
(Jack Kerouac)

"So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear? The evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old."
(Jack Kerouac)