I Can't Say, Over The Miles, That

Our Religion Keeps Reminding Us That We Aren't Just Will And Thoughts. We're Also Sand And Wind And Thunder. Rain. The Seasons. All Those Things. You Learn To Respect Everything Because You Are Everything. If You Respect Yourself, You Respect All Things.

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.

Somewhere Lives A Bad Cajun Cook, Just As Somewhere Must Live One Last Ivory-billed Woodpecker. For Me, I Don't Expect Ever To Encounter Either One.

At Any Particular Moment In A Man's Life, He Can Say That Everything He Has Done And Not Done, That Has Been Done And Not Been Done To Him, Has Brought Him To That Moment. If He's Being Installed As Chieftain Or Receiving A Nobel Prize, That's A Fulfilling Notion. But If He's In A Sleeping Bag At Ten Thousand Feet In A Snowstorm, Parked In The Middle Of A Highway And Waiting To Freeze To Death, The Idea Can Make Him Feel Calamitously Stupid.

Other Than To Amuse Himself, Why Should A Man Pretend To Know Where He's Going Or Understand What He Sees?