You’re the moon to my wolf.

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.

I am not young enough to know everything.

One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am—a reluctant enthusiast….a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.

Have you ever thought… about whatever man builds,
that all of man’s industrial efforts, all his calculations
and computations, all the nights spent over working draughts
and blueprints, invariably culminate in the production of a
thing whose sole and guiding principle is the ultimate pinciple
of simplicity?

It is as if there were a natural law which ordained that to
acheive this end, to refine the curve of a piece of furniture, or
a ship’s keel, or the fuselage of an airplane, until gradually it
partakes of the elementary purity of the curve of the human breast
or shoulder, there must be experimentations of several generations
of craftsmen. In any thing at all, perfection is finally attained
not when there is not longer anything to add, but when there is no
longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped
down to its nakedness.