Nothing in nature is that even; man is the inventor of straight edges.

Old trees want to hurt you. It doesn't matter if you're snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, or just taking a walk in the woods. Old trees want to hurt you, and I think they'd kill you if they could.

Dark green mountains knuckled up in the distance. Clouds seemed to be melting on the pan of the fair blue sky. Birds flew and sang. Wasn't it a hell of a shame, the way good country got wasted on folks.

The thunder of the breakers was tremendous down here, bigger than the world. Like standing inside a thunderstorm. And if we were the last people on earth, so what? This would go on as long as there was a moon to pull the water.