The four horsemen of the prairie are tornado, locust, drought, and fire, and the greatest of these is fire, a rider with two faces because for everything taken, it makes a return in equal measure.

Historical awareness is a kind of resurrection.

I can't say, over the miles, that I had learned what I had wanted to know because I hadn't known what I wanted to know. But I did learn what I didn't know I wanted to know.

Instead of insight, maybe all a man gets is strength to wander for a while. Maybe the only gift is a chance to inquire, to know nothing for certain. An inheritance of wonder and nothing more.

Other than to amuse himself, why should a man pretend to know where he's going or understand what he sees?

Instead of insight, maybe all a man gets is strength to wander for a while.

No yesterdays on the road.