Jack Kerouac. On the road (№ 413999)

Something, someone, some spirit pursued all of us in the desert of life and will inevitably intercept us before we reach heaven. Naturally, now, looking around, I can only say one thing: that was death; death will overtake us before the very heavens. The only thing we crave while we live, which makes us sigh, groan and vomit sweetly in every possible way - the memory of some lost bliss, which we probably experienced in the womb, and it can only be reproduced (although we do not want to allow this in any way) in death. But who wants to die? In the tumult of events, I kept thinking about it somewhere in the very depths of my mind. I told Dinu about this, and he immediately recognized here the usual desire for pure death; and since none of us will live anew in life, he quite rightly did not want to have anything to do with this, and I agreed with him that time.