I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

Writing is like the life of a glacier; one eternal grind.

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!

Hidden in the glorious wildness like unmined gold.

…their eager, childlike attention was refreshing to see as compared with the decent, deathlike apathy of weary civilized people, in whom natural curiosity has been quenched in toil and care and poor, shallow comfort.

I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news

But to gain a perfect view, one must go yet further, over a curving brow to a slight shelf on the extreme brink.