I am impelled, not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse, but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession.

Again it might have been the American tendency in travel. One goes, not so much to see but to tell afterward.

I believe that love cannot be bought except with love.

A strange species we are, We can stand anything God and nature can throw at us save only plenty. If I wanted to destroy a nation, I would give it too much, and I would have it on its knees, miserable, greedy, sick. --John Steinbeck to Adlai Stevenson

Ever'body's askin' that. "What we comin' to?" Seems to me we don't never come to nothin'. Always on the way.

My own journey started long before I left, and was over before I returned.

The new American finds his challenge and his love in the traffic-choked streets, skies nested in smog, choking with the acids of industry, the screech of rubber and houses leashed in against one another while the town lets wither a time and die.