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

In Spanish there is a word for which I can't find a counterword in English. It is the verb VACILAR... It does not mean vacillating at all. If one is vacilando, he is going somewhere, but does not greatly care whether or not he gets there, although he has direction.

I have said that Texas is a state of mind, but I think it is more than that. It is a mystique closely approximating a religion.

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

The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or the breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil.

This is the thing to bomb. This is the beginning—from "I" to "we". If you who own the things people must have could understand this, you might preserve yourself. If you could separate causes from results, if you could know that Paine, Marx, Jefferson, Lenin were results, not causes, you might survive. But that you cannot know. For the quality of owning freezes you forever into "I", and cuts you off forever from the "we".

When I was very young and the urge to be someplace was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch.