Somewhere in the depths of solitude, beyond wilderness and freedom, lay the trap of madness.
A cowboy is a hired hand on the middle of a horse contemplating the hind end of a cow.
The distrust of wit is the beginning of tyranny.
Nobody has so many friends that he can afford to lose one.
I've never yet read a review of one of my own books that I couldn't have written much better myself.
A shelf of classics for our young adults: Tolkien, Hesse, Casteneda, Kerouac, Salinger, Tom Robbins, and _The Last Whole Earth Catalog_.
Great art is indefinable but that's all right; it exists anyway.
What ideal, immutable Platonic cloud could equal the beauty and perfection of any ordinary everyday cloud floating over, say, Tuba City, Arizona, on a hot day in June?
Paradise for a happy man lies in his own good nature.
Proverbs save us the trouble of thinking. What we call folk wisdom is often no more than a kind of expedient stupidity.
God is love? Not bloody likely.
As a confirmed melancholic, I can testify that the best and maybe only antidote for melancholia is action. However, like most melancholics, I suffer also from sloth.
Mental degeneracy may be caused by lead poisoning. Or by a poor dip in the gene pool.
The New Age orgy: The flesh was willing but the spirit's weak.
I would never betray a friend to serve a cause. Never reject a friend to help an institution. Great nations may fall in ruin before I would sell a friend to save them.
Wilderness and motors are incompatible and the former can best be experienced, understood and enjoyed when the machines are left behind where they belong -- on the superhighways and in the parking lots, on the reservoirs and in the marinas.
In marriage, the occasional catastrophic crisis is easier to manage than the daily routine.
The night I filled an inside straight: Even a blind hog's gonna root up an acorn once in a while.
The world of employer and employee, like that of master and slave, debases both.
The sexual revolution transformed the American West: Now even cowboys can get laid.
As Mark Twain said, 'I love Wagner -- if only they'd cut out all that damned singing!'
If industrial man continues to multiply his numbers and expand his operations he will succeed in his apparent intention, to seal himself off from the natural and isolate himself within a synthetic prison of his own making.
Anywhere, anytime, I'd sacrifice the finest nuance for a laugh, the most elegant trope for a smile.
Poetry -- even bad poetry -- may be our final hope.
The best thing about graduating from the university was that I finally had time to sit on a log and read a good book.
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