Nothing can excel a few days in jail for giving a young man or woman a quick education in the basis of industrial society.

Places: a cold, bleak, lonely day on the rim at Muley Point, Utah. And the heart-cracking loveliness of the blood-smeared, bitter, incomprehensible slaughterhouse of a world.

There's another disadvantage to the use of the flashlight: like many other mechanical gadgets it tends to separate a man from the world around him. If I switch it on my eyes adapt to it and I can see only the small pool of light it makes in front of me; I am isolated. Leaving the flashlight in my pocket where it belongs, I remain a part of the environment I walk through and my vision though limited has no sharp or definite boundary.

The earth, like the sun, like the air, belongs to everyone - and to no one.

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

No man is wise enough to be another man's master. Each man's as good as the next -- if not a damn sight better.

It may be true that there are no atheists in foxholes. But you don't find many Christians there, either. Or, about as many of one as the other.