Married couples who quarrel bitterly every day may really need each other as deeply as those who appear to be desperately in love.
How to Avoid Pleurisy: Never make love to a girl named Candy on the tailgate of a half-ton Ford pickup during a chill rain in April out on Grandview Point in San Juan County, Utah.
Desert springtime, with flowers popping up all over the place, trees leafing out, streams gushing down from the mountains. Great time of year for hiking, camping, exploring, sleeping under the new moon and the old stars. At dawn and at evening we hear the coyotes howling with excitement—mating season.
I don't see how poetry can ever be easy... Real poetry, the thick, dense, intense, complicated stuff that lives and endures, requires blood sweat; blood and sweat are essential elements in poetry as well as behind it.
It seems clear at last that our love for the natural world-Nature-is the only means by which we can requite God's obvious love for it.
I am delighted, one more time, by the daring of my species and the audacity of our flying machines. There is poetry and music in our technology, a beauty as touching as that of eagle, moss campion, raven or yonder limestone boulder shining under the Arctic sun.
Trout fishing. One must be a stickler for proper form. Use nothing but #4 blasting caps, or a hand grenade, if handy, or at a pool well-lined with stone, one blast from a .44 magnum will bring a few stunned brookies quietly to the surface.
There are two kinds of people I cannot abide: bigots and any well-organized ethnic group.
Passion, sexual passion, may lead to marriage, but cannot sustain marriage. The purpose of marriage is the raising of children, for which patience, not passion, is the necessary foundation.
Whenever I read _Time_ or _Newsweek_ or such magazines, I wash my hands afterward. But how to wash off the small but odious stain such reading leaves on the mind?
There has never been an 'original' sin: each is quite banal.
We live in the kind of world where courage is the most essential of virtues; without courage, the other virtues are useless.
I believe that there is a kind of poetry, even a kind of truth, in simple fact.
Girls: I never wanted them all. Just all the ones I wanted.
A cowboy is a farm boy in leather britches and a comical hat.
Man was created to complete the horse.
The artist's job? To be a miracle worker: make the blind see, the dull feel, the dead to live.
Cowboys make better lovers: Ask any cow.
Proust again: One can only wish that a man with such powers of total recall had led a less tedious life, moved among somewhat livelier circles.
War? The one war I'd be happy to join is the war against officers.
All forms of government are pernicious, including good government.
Nothing can excel a few days in jail for giving a young man or woman a quick education in the basis of industrial society.
Little boys love machines; girls adore horses; grown-up men and women like to walk.
The hawk's cry is as sharp as its beak.
Anton Bruckner wrote the same symphony nine times, trying to get it just right. He failed.
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