All great and precious things are lonely.

There's an awful lot of inactive kindness which is nothing but laziness, not wanting any trouble, confusion, or effort.

I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.

No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe

Critics are the eunuchs of literature. They stand by in envious awe while the whole man and his partner demonstrate the art of living.

Well, I git enough sorrow. I like to git away from it.

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.