love, love, love, that is the soul of genius

i don't think i'll ever have another like you for i might retire in so far, or go crazy or eccentric, like louis ferdinand céline. i can't think of anybody, anybody who knows the sum and substance of what i know and feel and cry about in my secret self all the time when i don't feel strong, the sorrows of time and personality, and can therefore on all levels make it all the way with me - who knows and loves even jazz as i do, and digs it as i do, who's been AROUND and then some. i dig like you did, i dig jazz, a 1000 things in america. i make notes about it, i know the secrets; i dig joyce and proust above melville and céline, like you; and i dig you as we together dig the lostness and the fact that of course nothing's ever to be gained but death; i only wanted to tell you how great i think you are (after all). 

- from visions of cody by jack kerouac

happy valentine's day all

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