I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it.

Lord, how the day passes! It's like a life - so quickly when we don't watch it and so slowly when we do.

I know a little bit about a great many things and not enough about any one to make a living in these times.

As with many people, Charles, who could not talk, wrote with fullness. He set down his loneliness and his perplexities, and he put on paper many things he did not know about himself.

Don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens - The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

When a man says he does not want to speak of something he usually means he can think of nothing else.

After the bare requisites to living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he has really existed. He leaves his proof on wood, on stone or on the lives of other people. This deep desire exists in everyone, from the boy who writes dirty words in a public toilet to the Buddha who etches his image in the race mind. Life is so unreal. I think that we seriously doubt that we exist and go about trying to prove that we do.