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

Girls: I never wanted them all. Just all the ones I wanted.

The world is what it is, no less and no more, and therein lies its entire and sufficient meaning.

All men are brothers, we like to say, half-wishing sometimes in secret it were not true. But perhaps it is true. And is the evolutionary line from protozoan to Spinoza any less certain? That also may be true. We are obliged, therefore, to spread the news, painful and bitter though it may be for some to hear, that all living things on earth are kindred.

In the afternoon I watch the clouds drift past the bald peak of Mount Tukuhnikivats. (Someone has to do it.)

Why this cult of wilderness?... because we like the taste of freedom; because we like the smell of danger.

I choose to listen to the river for a while, thinking river thoughts, before joining the night and the stars.