The cars of the migrant people crawled out of the side roads onto the great cross-country highway, and they took the migrant way to the West.... And because they were lonely and perplexed, because they had all come from a place of sadness and worry and defeat, and because they were all going to a mysterious new place, ... a strange thing happened: the twenty families became one family, the children were the children of all. The loss of home became one loss, and the golden time in the West was one dream.

Unless a reviewer has the courage to give you unqualified praise, I say ignore the bastard.

Maybe the hardest thing in writing is simply to tell the truth about things as we see them.

On all levels American society is rigged. I am troubled by the cynical immorality of my country. It cannot survive on this basis.

Fearful and unprepared, we have assumed lordship over the life or death of the whole world, of all living things.

I guess this is why I hate governments, all governments. It is always the rule, the fine print, carried out by fine-print men. There's nothing to fight, no wall to hammer with frustrated fists.

Being at ease with himself put him at ease with the world.