But now the story, the confession..
What I’d learned on the solitary mountain all summer, the Vision on Desolation Peak, I tried to bring down to the world and to my friends in San Francisco, but they, involved in the strictures of time and life, rather than the eternity and solitude of mountain snowy rocks, had a lesson to teach me themselves- Besides, the vision of the freedom of Eternity which I saw and which all wilderness heritage saints have seen, is of little use in cities and warring societies such as we have- what a world this is, not only that friendships cancel enmity, but enmity doth cancel friendship and the grave and the urn cancel all- Time enough to die in ignorance, but now that we live what shall we celebrate, what shall we say? What to do? What, boidened flesh in Brooklyn and everywhere, and sick stomachs, and suspicious hearts, and hard streets, and clash of ideas, all humanity on fire with hate & odio…
I only know one thing: everybody in the world is an angel.
Jack Kerouac, Desolation Angels (1965)