"Because in the end, you won't remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain"
"I'm stuck struggling in the cold water, and all I can do is grieve, grieve, in the hoar necessitous horror of the morning, bitterly I hate myself, bitterly it's too late yet while I feel better I still feel ephemeral and unreal and unable to straighten my thoughts or even really grieve, in fact I feel too stupid to be really bitter, in short I don't know what I'm doing and I'm being told what to do."
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Source: Jack Kerouac (2012). “Desolation Angels”, p.18, Penguin UK
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