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“Eli returned to the river and paused for a moment midstream. His feet were balanced upon uneven stones. The current tumbled around him. The canyon walls were steep and jagged and solid. The colors beneath the surface stirred and glittered. He wanted to hold his face under water and breathe in their beauty. He dipped his fingers into the snow-cold transient texture and felt a tingle. He closed his eyes to see this sensation clearly. He breathed. He put his river-wet hand up to his face and felt the freshness permeate his skin. Water droplets dripped from his face and returned to the river. He opened his eyes as if they were separate from his body, separate from the tension of life, distant from any distraction. He breathed.”
― Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

“He told me to call him Dazar Frihet. He said that our days are freedom. All of these days, the ones our feet carry us through, any one of them we can choose to be free, we just have to be willing to make it happen. He was such a sad young man, but he wasn’t sad for himself, he was the freest person I ever knew. No, he was sad for all the people he saw who were never free. All the people walking around thinking they were free, but were bonded to so many possessions and responsibilities, so much dispassion and anger, that freedom had become a mirage, like a mythical figure or a god, something they worshiped and followed, but never truly understood.”
― Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

“Every man should wake up alone and spend thirty minutes outside. He should spend thirty minutes with the rising sun listening for birds while pacing back and forth in ponderous thought, with a cool breeze on his nose and his arms stretched into the open air. He should spend thirty minutes alone with whatever view is available. Then he should go back to sleep.”
― Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

“My attraction to wild places is, in part, an attempt to relive the innocence and imagination lost after youth. To be submersed in the innocence of a forest, the ungoverned landscape, to exist by my own laws and no one else’s, even if only briefly — this is one of the primary beacons that guides me back into wild places.”
― Daniel J. Rice, THE UNPEOPLED SEASON: A Journal of Solitude and Wilderness