All that road going & all the people dreaming in the immensity of it

All the stories I wrote were true 'cause I believed in what I saw. I was travelling west one time at the junction of the state line of Colorado - its arid western one, and the state line of poor Utah. I saw in the clouds huge and massed above the fearing golden desert of even fall - the Great Image of God with four fingers pointed straight at me. Through halos and rolls and gold foals that were like the existence of the gleaming spear in His right hand which sayeth c'mon boy, go thou across the ground. Go moan for man. Go moan. Go groan. Go groan alone. Go roll your bones. Alone. Go thou and be little beneath my sight. Go thou and be minutest seed in the pod. Go thou go thou - die hence, and if this world report you well and truly.
-- J. Kerouac