I Seek The Substantial In Life.

Wherever We Go We Do Harm, Forgiving Ourselves As Wheels Do Cement For Wearing Each Other Out. We Set This House On Fire, Forgetting That We Live Within. (from "to A Meadowlark," For M.l. Smoker)

I Wonder, When A Writer's Blocked And Doesn't Have Any Resources To Pull Himself Out Of It, Why Doesn't He Jump In His Car And Drive Around The U.s.a.? I Went Last Winter For Seven Thousand Miles And It Was Lovely. Inexpensive, Too.

Suits Obviously Had Helped To Promote Bad Government And He Was As Guilty As Anyone For Wearing Them So Steadfastly For Twenty Years. Of Late He Had Become Frightened Of The Government For The First Time In His Life, The Way The Structure Of Democracy Had Begun Debasing People Rather Than Enlivening Them In Their Mutual Concern. The Structure Was No Longer Concerned With The Purpose For Which It Was Designed, And A Small Part Of The Cause, Nordstrom Thought, Was Probably That All Politicians And Bureaucrats Wore Suits.

It Is Utterly Soothing To Fly Fish For Trout. All Other Considerations Or Worries Drift Away And You Couldn't Keep Them Close If You Wanted. Perhaps It's Standing Thigh Deep In A River With The Water Passing At The Exact But Varying Speed Of Life. You Easily Recognize This Mortality And It Dissipates Into The Landscape.

Success And Money Can Really Be Quite Blinding.