Don’t know how I ended up reading three books at the same
time. I’m normally very faithful to my stories, and hate mixing
my drugs. Blame it all on this bizarre un-summery summer.
Whatever, since I have nothing interesting to say I might as
well go on with my quoting.

“You’ll come to angular rages and lonely romages among Beast
of Day in hot glary circumstances made grit by the hour of
the clock- that is known as Civilization…You’ll grow numb all over
from inner paralytic thoughts, and bad chairs- that is known as
Solitude…You’ll look at a wall of blank flesh and fritter to explain yourself- that is known as Love.”

Yes, I know romages is not really a word, but I won’t start correcting Kerouac now. Rummages, romages, what difference does it make.
(I just corrected him, didn’t I? Another case of hubris..)