Life was dense, dark, ancient. They watched Dean, serious and insane at his raving wheel, with eyes of hawks. All had their hands outstretched. They had come down from the back mountains and higher places to hold forth their hands for something they thought civilization could offer, and they never dreamed the sadness and the poor broken delusion of it.

...most of the time we were alone and mixing up our souls ever more and ever more till it would be terribly hard to say good-by.

cliches are truisms and all truisms are true

Better to sleep in an uncomfortable bed free, than sleep in a comfortable bed unfree.

My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.

We wandered in a frenzy and a dream (301).

Yeah," I said, "but you're an artist. You don't believe in decency and honesty and gratitude. Where shall we eat?