Kerouac, you fucker, you were RIGHT.
TWO things made the ass-busting effort it took for me to finish my degree at San Jose State at night while working a full time job worth it. First one was a class called "The Transcendentalists," which exposed me to the work of Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman. Second was reading "On The Road," specifically the passage below, which ultimately became my mission statement for life:
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I've read a number of volumes of his work but still consider the Signet Classic "Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson" the be the best. In order to get the best out of his overall body of work, you have to read not only the major essays like "Self Reliance" but also the letters and journal entries, which you'll find here.
Amazon has the paperback for $8, the KIndle version for $3:
http://www.amazon.com/Selected-Writings-Emerson-Signet-Classics/dp/0451531868/
Your Kerouac quote made me think of his famous poem:
“...unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.”
I'm actually reading him now (Ham on Rye) and it's kind of blowing my mind. There's a similar nihilistic vein to Kerouac and so raw, with flashes of brilliant writing. From Ham on Rye:
“And my own affairs were as bad, as dismal, as the day I had been born. The only difference was that now I could drink now and then, though never often enough. Drink was the only thing that kept a man from feeling forever stunned and useless. Everything else just kept picking and picking, hacking away. And nothing was interesting, nothing. The people were restrictive and careful, all alike. And I've got to live with these fuckers for the rest of my life, I thought. God, they all had assholes and sexual organs and their mouths and their armpits. They shit and they chattered and they were dull as horse dung. The girls looked good from a distance, the sun shining through their dresses, their hair. But get up close and listen to their minds running out of their mouths, you felt like digging in under a hill and hiding out with a tommy-gun. I would certainly never be able to be happy, to get married, I could never have children. Hell, I couldn't even get a job as a dishwasher.”
...
“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery—isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”
Anyway, just thought he might do it for you too, since you like Kerouac.
I started with Kerouac in high school, built my collection and then lost it all in a move.
I rec picking up a copy of Some of the Dhama once you've made it through his novels. I also enjoy his poetry immensely.
Soon I will build my library again! 
The professor wasn't a stoner, but if you remember the demeanor of Donald Sutherland in Animal House, that was this guy. Very laid back, slow and relaxed in his manner of speaking, knew the material like the back of his hand and made the process of learning it a true joy.
Reading Emerson was a revelation for me. These were thoughts I'd been feeling inside for many years, but seeing them on the printed page changed my life.
