I have been called a curmudgeon, which my obsolescent dictionary defines as a "surly, illmannered, badtempered fellow." ... Nowadays, curmudgeon is likely to refer to anyone who hates hypocrisy, cant, sham, dogmatic ideologies, the pretenses and evasions of euphemism, and has the nerve to point out unpleasant facts and takes the trouble to impale these sins on the skewer of humor and roast them over the fires of empiric fact, common sense, and native intelligence. In this nation of bleating sheep and braying jackasses, it then becomes an honor to be labeled curmudgeon.

I thought of the wilderness we had left behind us, open to sea and sky, joyous in its plenitude and simplicity, perfect yet vulnerable, unaware of what is coming, defended by nothing, guarded by no one.

From the point of view of a tapeworm, man was created by God to serve the appetite of the tapeworm.

In all of nature, there is no sound more pleasing than that of a hungry animal at its feed. Unless you are the food.

Wilderness begins in the human mind.

God is a sound people make when they're too tired to think anymore.

The more fantastic an ideology or theology, the more fanatic its adherents.