When the railroad trains moaned, and river-winds blew, bringing echoes through the vale, it was as if a wild hum of voices, the dear voices of everybody he had known, were crying: "Peter, Peter! Where are you going, Peter?" And a big soft gust of rain came down. He put up the collar of his jacket, and bowed his head, and hurried along.
Jack KerouacAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: March 12, 1922
- Died: October 21, 1969
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