"I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling."

All of Kerouac's heavy drinking and partying really wore the guy out. So the calming effect of nature had a serious impact on him. This nature-infusion was all thanks to his pal, Gary Snyder.

Snyder (who's known as Japhy Ryder in the novel) took Kerouac (called Ray Smith) into the woods. While there, Snyder introduced him to Buddhist philosophies, and then they drank whiskey, held hands, and sang songs around the campfire. At least that's how we imagine it…

Anyway, the entirety of The Dharma Bums can be understood as Kerouac's plea to the universe for inner peace. The universe agrees to grant the dude his wish, but only on the conditions he stop drinking and get a job. Too bad those conditions were never met.

Sigh. Kerouac's brief exploration of Buddhist thought—before his tragic early death—still makes for some pretty great prose.

Out in the woods, Kerouac feels the presence of generations past. He fantasizes about these "golden eternities"—in that moment, he understands that every living thing cycles through different life processes. And human possessions and relationships and all of that?

Well, those behaviors all seem pretty ridiculous when we think about how our planet's ecosystems operate.

Essentially, this is the party boy Mr. Kerouac dreaming of generations past in a way that makes his current worries seem small. Here's that samsara (cycle of life) business again. Don't you ever think about how tiny you are, in the big scheme of things?

This passage goes down smooth and easy, like your favorite Sunday-morning song. Though Kerouac uses long, sweeping sentences, the phrases that comprise these sentences are mostly of a similar length.

And the narration moves slowly from insight to insight in this passage. Kerouac's writing style here is like a gentle wave—unlike the frantic, fast-paced rhythm of On the Road. This is what happens when Buddhists listen to jazz.

Well, smooth jazz, maybe. Kerouac's prose in The Dharma Bums washes over you like Kenny G… not like the heroin jazz of Charlie Parker, those frenetic notes that that influenced "Howl" and On the Road.