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

I hold no preference among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.

Money confers the power to command the labor of others. Love of money is love of power. And love of power is the root of evil.

Music is a savage art, a measured madness.

Our culture runs on coffee and gasoline, the first often tasting like the second.

In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat, in the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolution, all things recede to distrances out of reach, relecting light but impossible to touch, annihilating all thought and all that men have made to a spasm of whirling dust far out on the golden desert.

Mexico: where life is cheap, death is rich, and the buzzards are never unhappy.