Men love their ideas more than their lives. And the more preposterous the idea, the more eager they are to die for it. And to kill for it.

Belief in the supernatural reflects a failure of the imagination.

And if the computer gives you any back talk, pour some well-sugared office coffee into its evil little silicon brain.

We live in a time of twin credulities: the hunger for the miraculous combined with a servile awe of science. The mating of the two gives us superstition plus scientism -- a Mongoloid metaphysic.

The love of wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyong reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth, the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only paradise we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need, if only we had the eyes to see.

Jack Kerouac, like a sick refrigerator, worked too hard at keeping cool and died on his mama's lap from alcohol and infantilism.

Simplicity is always a virtue.