In 1957, I Decided: Write

Then It Was Intoxicating. The Smooth Takeoff, And The Free Feeling Of Having The World Drop Away. Soon After Leaving The Ground, They Were Crossing Patches Of Stratus That Lay In The Valleys As Heavy And White As Glaciers. North For The First Time. It Was Still An Adventure, As Exciting As Love, As Frightening.

Normally, What You’re Envious Of Is A Book, Not A Writer: Standards, Ideas, Levels … Almost Nonexistent Things.

They Are Travelling Cheaply, With That Touch Of Indolence And Occasional Luxury That Comes Only From Having Real Resources. They Live In Levis And Sunlight. Sometimes They Brush Their Teeth In Streams.

Dresscodes Are For Styleless People.

Women Fall In Love When They Get To Know You. Men Are Just The Opposite. When They Finally Know You They're Ready To Leave