The Dharma Bums: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

by Jack Kerouac

At noon the only sound in the world was the symphonic hum of a million insects, my friends. But night would come and with it the mountain moon and the lake would be moonlaned and I’d go out and sit in the grass and meditate facing west, wishing there were a Personal God in all this impersonal matter.