Adventure Is Putting One's Ignorance Into Motion.

A True Journey, No Matter How Long The Travel Takes, Has No End.

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.

One Of The Sweet And Expectable Aspects Of Life Afloat Is The Perpetual Present Moment One Lives In And A Perception That Time Is Nothing More Than The Current, An Eternal Flowing Back To The Sea.

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.

Having Made The Trip From St. Louis To The Pacific Ocean Myself Going Up Up Up Against Twenty-five Hundred Miles Of The Missouri River, I Can Testify That It's One Of The Most Arduous Trips That Anyone Can Make On This Continent And Yet I Had A Power Boat To Do It In.