When you start separating people from their rivers, what have you got? Bureaucracy!
It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night.
And there in the blue air I saw for the first time, far off, the great snowy tops of the Rocky Mountains. I had to get to Denver at once.
Goddamn it, FEELING is what I like in art, not CRAFTINESS and the hiding of feelings.
Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain't this and that at all?
I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all