A journey is measured in friends, not miles.

There's a story everywhere. Being bored to death someplace is basically a funny proposition. What you have to watch out for is you don't write a boring story about a boring place.

A journey is best measured in friends, not in miles.

I am living out my adolescent dream of travel and adventure.

I take compliments and I take constructive criticism. Not everyone loves you. It's the way you react as a footballer. I use it all to make me play better.

No amount of money could make me play for Liverpool, that isn't disrespect to Liverpool or their fans, it's respect for Everton

A constant ongoing joke among the people that I travel with is my absolutely hopeless sense of direction. I'm able to get lost a half an hour from camp. I don't know how I do this.

The sensual caress of waist deep cold smoke.... glory in skiing virgin snow, in being the first to mark the powder with the signature of their run.

Mystery is a resource, like coal or gold, and its preservation is a fine thing.

My concept of drama requires obstacles, and there's no obstacles in comfort.

I see many people trying to write well about the wilderness, and essentially failing. To me there are basically two aspects of a failed outdoor story. One is the phony epiphany on the mountain top.

After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands.

Just one single word of kindness builds bridges for the rest of the day.

Art is a way to express yourself and through that you can escape a bad situation.

If we tried to write about politics, you'd realize that we're all a bunch of idiots.

All of us, writers and non-writers alike, have incredible well-springs of personal experience and history. And we also have imagination - which I think is a kind of human miracle.

If you never take a chance, you will never be defeated - but you will never accomplish anything either.

In human history a moral victory is always a disaster, for it debauches and degrades both the victor and the vanquished.

A man, groundly learned already, may take much profit himself in using by epitome to draw other men’s works, for his own memory sake, into short room.

Can we change the world? No, but hell, we can all try.

For the last year his grandma had been slipping in and out of reality. One minute she was as clear as a bell and the next she was calling him Simon. Who was Simon? He had no idea.