The night I filled an inside straight: Even a blind hog's gonna root up an acorn once in a while.

Life is too tragic for sadness: Let us rejoice.

It seems clear at last that our love for the natural world-Nature-is the only means by which we can requite God's obvious love for it.

The dog's life is a good life, for a dog.

I despise my own nation most. Because I know it best. Because I still love it, suffering from Hope. For me, that's patrotism.

Let the people walk. Or ride horses, bicycles, mules, wild pigs-anything-but keep the automobiles and the motorcycles and all their motorized relatives out. We have agreed not to drive our automobiles into cathedrals, concert halls, art museums, legislative assemblies, private bedrooms and other sanctums of our culture; we should treat our national parks with the same deference, for they, too, are holy places.

Why the critics, like a flock of ducks, always move in perfect unison: Their authority with the public depends upon an appearance of unanimous agreement. One dissenting voice would shatter the whole fragile structure.