I was dimly aware that I might be getting in over my head. But that only added to the scheme’s appeal. That it wouldn’t be easy was the whole point.

The endless, agonizing recycling of what might have been, soon followed by a litany of rationalizations and self-deceptions as you struggle to reconcile the void between the person you want to be and the person you fear you are.

I thought climbing the Devil's Thumb would fix all that was wrong with my life. In the end, of course, it changed almost nothing. But I came to appreciate that mountains make poor receptacles for dreams.

But somethings in life are more important than being happy. Like being free to think for yourself.

HAPPINESS is ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED

Mountains make poor receptacles for dreams.

Everest has always been a magnet for kooks, publicity seekers, hopeless romantics and others with a shaky hold on reality.