"What's the name of that Russian author you're always talking about-the one who put the newspapers in his shoe and walked around in a stovepipe hat he found in a garbage pail?" This was an exaggeration of what I'd told Remi of Dostoevski. "Ah, that's it-that's it- Dostioffski. A man with a face like that supervisor can only have one name-it's Dostioffski."
(с) Jack Kerouac