| Believe in the holy contour of life. |
Trails are like that: you're floating along in a Shakespearean Arden paradise and expect to see nymphs and flute boys, then suddenly you're struggling in a hot broiling sun of hell in dust and nettles and poison oak... just like life.
The Dharma Bums |
And all the insects ceased in honor of the moon.
Lonesome Traveler |
| I'm a Catholic and I can't commit suicide, but I plan to drink myself to death. |
| Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life. |
| My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them. |
