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In my madness i was actually in love with her for the few hours it all lasted; it was the same unmistakable ache and stab across the mind, the same sighs, the same pain, and above all the same reluctance and fear to approach.
-Jack Kerouac
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In My Madness I Was Actually In

Jack Kerouac
In my madness i was actually in love with her for the few hours it all lasted; it was the same unmistakable ache and stab across the mind, the same sighs, the same pain, and above all the same reluctance and fear to approach.
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Pain Mind Madness

More From Jack Kerouac

Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. what is it else? a madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet. *here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers' sighs. when the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. if you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers' tears. what else is love? it’s a wise form of madness. it’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.*
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To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. he had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.
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Are you angry? punch a pillow. was it satisfying? not hardly. these days people are too angry for punching. what you might try is stabbing. take an old pillow and lay it on the front lawn. stab it with a big pointy knife. again and again and again. stab hard enough for the point of the knife to go into the ground. stab until the pillow is gone and you are just stabbing the earth again and again, as if you want to kill it for continuing to spin, as if you are getting revenge for having to live on this planet day after day, alone.
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We fear the past, present and future. we fear the unknown, we fear not having enough, losing what we have, not having what we want. we fear what will become of us and those that we care for. we fear what others think of us and what they don't think of us. we fear, fear, fear and therefore we are controllable through the manipulation of all that we fear. the present war on terror is the war of fear. no fear, no control.
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Grief does not end and love does not die and nothing fills its graven place. with grace, pain is transmuted into the gold of wisdom and compassion and the lesser coin of muted sadness and resignation; but something leaden of it remains, to become the kernel arond which more pain accretes (a black pearl): one pain becomes every other pain ... unless one strips away, one by one, the layers of pain to get to the heart of the pain - and this causes more pain, pain so intense as to feel like evisceration.
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There are only two emotions: love and fear. all positive emotions come from love, all negative emotions from fear. from love flows happiness, contentment, peace, and joy. from fear comes anger, hate, anxiety and guilt. it's true that there are only two primary emotions, love and fear. but it's more accurate to say that there is only love or fear, for we cannot feel these two emotions together, at exactly the same time. they're opposites. if we're in fear, we are not in a place of love. when we're in a place of love, we cannot be in a place of fear. copyright: elisabeth kubler-ross family limited partnership.
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