There Are Two Kinds Of Adventurers: Those

A True Journey, No Matter How Long The Travel Takes, Has No End.

For Me, Writing Is Not A Search For Explanations But A Ramble In Quest Of What Informs A Place, A Hunt For Equivalents.

The Open Road Is A Beckoning, A Strangeness, A Place Where A Man Can Lose Himself.

Our Religion Keeps Reminding Us That We Aren't Just Will And Thoughts. We're Also Sand And Wind And Thunder. Rain. The Seasons. All Those Things. You Learn To Respect Everything Because You Are Everything. If You Respect Yourself, You Respect All Things.

At Any Particular Moment In A Man's Life, He Can Say That Everything He Has Done And Not Done, That Has Been Done And Not Been Done To Him, Has Brought Him To That Moment. If He's Being Installed As Chieftain Or Receiving A Nobel Prize, That's A Fulfilling Notion. But If He's In A Sleeping Bag At Ten Thousand Feet In A Snowstorm, Parked In The Middle Of A Highway And Waiting To Freeze To Death, The Idea Can Make Him Feel Calamitously Stupid.