One Must Use The Weapons One Finds

While To Live In The Past And Think Of What Was Good And Beautiful About It Amounts To A Sort Of Seasoning Of The Present, The Perennial Wait For Tomorrow Is Bound To Result In Chronic Discontent That Poisons One's Entire Outlook.

Now More Than Ever Do I Realize That I Will Never Be Content With A Sedentary Life, That I Will Always Be Haunted By Thoughts Of A Sun-drenched Elsewhere.

I Think It Is Impossible For Human Minds To Think Of Death As A Final, Irrevocable End To Life.

One Must Use The Weapons One Finds In One's Path.

Life On The Open Road Is Liberty... To Be Alone, To Have Few Needs, To Be Unknown, Everywhere A Foreigner And At Home, And To Walk Grandly And Solitarily In Conquest Of The World.