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By all rights it was spring, but every year somebody forgot to tell the mountains.
“The Cheyenne Nation, your dog, and I are all drinking wine and talking about what a shit you are.” “Dog is drinking wine?” She exhaled audibly. “Well, I poured him some; so far he’s just looking at it.”
I applied the simple rule that allowed me to make stupid decisions in these types of situations: if I was down there, would I want someone coming after me?
If I wanted a clear view, I was going to have to crawl out from between the two vehicles, which meant really showing myself, something I was loath to do. I reached over and picked up my hat, dusting it off and placing it back on my head. Small comforts, but I always felt better with my hat on.
“You collect things as you go—the things you think are important—and soon they weigh you down until you realize that these things you cared so much about mean nothing at all. Our natures are our natures.” He grunted. “And they are all we are left with.”
“All the horrors in this book are the horrors of the mind, and they are the only ones that can truly harm us.”
It’s never about who’s the fastest, strongest, toughest—it’s always about who, when everyone else would pause, will commit.
