After a few days, I mused, I would have no trouble. Whoever heard of a revolution of fat men?
The way I see it, every time a man gets up in the morning he starts his life over. Sure, the bills are there to pay, and the job is there to do, but you don’t have to stay in a pattern. You can always start over, saddle a fresh horse and take another trail.
The more one learns, the more he understands his ignorance.
To make democracy work, we must be a notion of participants, not simply observers. One who does not vote has no right to complain.
Too often I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen.
All loose things seem to drift down to the sea, and so did I.
To disbelieve is easy; to scoff is simple; to have faith is harder.
Knowledge is like money: to be of value it must circulate, and in circulating it can increase in quantity and, hopefully, in value.
Have faith in God but keep your powder dry.
I would not sit waiting for some vague tomorrow, nor for something to happen. One could wait a lifetime, and find nothing at the end of the waiting. I would begin here, I would make something happen.
Strange how it was always the spoiled who weakened and cried first, and it was the injured, the maimed, the blind, and the poor who fought on alone.
Folks who talk about no violence are always the ones who are first to call a policeman and usually they are sure there is one handy.
Often I hear people say they do not have time to read. That’s absolute nonsense. If one really wants to learn, one has to decide what is important. Spending an evening on the town? Attending a ball game? Or learning something that can be with you your life long.
Luck comes to a man who puts himself in the way of it. You went where something might be found and you found something, simple as that.
A man can learn a lot if he listens, and if I didn’t learn anything else I was learning how much I didn’t know.
One learns to adapt to the land in which one lives.
To exist is to adapt, and if one could not adapt, one died and made room for those who could.
Books are the building blocks of civilization and a people without books are a people without history, a people with no story older than the tales of the oldest man or woman.
He who plants a tree is a servant of God.
It is an old custom of these people to pick up a stone and toss it on the pile. Perhaps it is a symbolical lightening of the load they carry, perhaps a small offering to the gods of the trails.