I Did Learn What I

I Contend That In The Kind Of Nonfiction I Write, And That Other People Also Pursue, Anything Is Permissible Provided The Reader Knows What You're Taking Liberties With.

The Lewis And Clark Tale Has All The All The Elements That One Would Want To Put Into A Movie. It Has The, Continual Threat For Life; It's Got The Thread Of Indians; It's Got Disease. It Has Daily Risk Where These Men May Go Under The Water. It's Got The Fight With The Elements. It's Got The El The Role Of The Unknown Continually Threatening Them.

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.

Beware Thoughts That Come In The Night. They Aren't Turned Properly; They Come In Askew, Free Of Sense And Restriction, Deriving From The Most Remote Of Sources.

What Is It In Man That For A Long While Lies Unknown And Unseen Only One Day To Emerge And Push Him Into A New Land Of The Eye, A New Region Of The Mind, A Place He Has Never Dreamed Of? Maybe It's Like The Force In Spores Lying Quietly Under Asphalt Until The Day They Push A Soft, Bulbous Mushroom Head Right Through The Pavement. There's Nothing You Can Do To Stop It.