In writing, fidelity to fact leads eventually to the poetry of truth.

I wait. Now the night flows back, the mighty stillness embraces and includes me; I can see the stars again and the world of starlight. I am twenty miles or more from the nearest fellow human, but instead of loneliness I feel loveliness. Loveliness and a quiet exultation.

I took the other road, all right, but only because it was the easy road for me, the way I wanted to go. If I've encountered some unnecessary resistance that's because most of the traffic is going the other way.

A society that feels itself too poor to afford the preservation of wilderness is not worthy of the name civilization.

Girls, like flowers, bloom but once. But once is enough.

Recorded history is largely an account of the crimes and disasters committed by banal little men at the levers of imperial machines.

In order to write a book, it is necessary to sit down (or stand up) and write. Therein lies the difficulty.