Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind.

Details are the Life of Prose.

Something great is about to happen to me: I'm about to love somebody very much.

No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength

Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.

At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.

The beauty of things must be that they end.