Gone. We were out in the country and everything slowed down into rolling hills covered with snow. There were trees, but no leaves, and I could not remember seeing anything so white and clean. Winter i...
This beginning motion, this first time when a sail truly filled and the boat took life and knifed across the lake under perfect control, this was so beautiful it stopped my breath...
I sail, run dogs, ride horses, play professional poker and tell stories about the stuff I've been through. And I'm still a romantic; I still want Bambi to make it out of the fire.
I have a pickup truck. And I prefer to be with dogs or on my sailboat than in a car - actually, more than any other place on Earth.
She was beautiful in a way that only wild things can be beautiful.
All right, he thought, take one thing at a time. Just one thing.I poked my leg with an arrow. There. Good. I pulled the arrow out. My leg still works. It must not have been a broadhead because it didn...
There. I've poked my leg, rolled down a bank and been hit in the head with the canoe.All simple things. All fixable things.
I spent uncounted hours sitting at the bow looking at the water and the sky, studying each wave, different from the last, seeing how it caught the light, the air, the wind; watching patterns, the swee...
I think that what computers have done is just disastrous to the language.
Patience, he thought. So much of this was patience - waiting, and thinking and doing things right. So much of all this, so much of all living was patience and thinking.
I'm sorry. I was just running them. Running the dogs. I swallowed more soup and looked at the sky. The cold air was so clear the stars seemed to be falling to the ground. Like you could walk right. ....
All of flying is easy. Just takes learning. Like everything else. Like everything else.
I owe everything I am and everything I will ever be to books.
The hatchet. The key to it all. Nothing without the hatchet. Just that would take all his thanks. And
I'm a teller of stories. I put bloody skins on my back and dance around the fire, and I say what the hunt was like. It's not erudite; it's not intellectual. I sail, run dogs, ride horses, play profess...
He could see it now. Oh, yes, all as he ran in the sun, his legs liquid springs.
Kind of like a pear, he had thought, with a point on one end and a fat little body; a flying pear.
He had forgotten the most important thing about living in the wilderness, the one thing he'd thought he would never forget-expect the unexpected. What you didn't think would get you, would get you. Pl...
Words are alive--when I've found a story that I love, I read it again and again, like playing a favorite song over and over. Reading isn't passive--I enter the story with the characters, breathe their...
He had to keep thinking of them because if he forgot them and did not think of them they might forget about him. And he had to keep hoping. He had to keep hoping.