Ryan Louis

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On Trails: An Exp...
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  (page 107 of 352)
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Salt Sugar Fat: H...
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Ecology Without N...
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Sex with Shakespeare by Jillian Keenan
"A brave, deeply touching memoir for anyone who has wrestled with their own sexuality.

Readers who’ve ever dealt with a part of their sexuality that they couldn’t accept—that they felt somehow was “ugly” or “wrong,” who sought out books as a release..." Read more of this review »
Island in the Sea of Time by S.M. Stirling
"An intriguing take on alternate histories. I was constantly wondering, what would I do if I were transported to the Bronze Age and had to survive with none of the resources I've always taken for granted.
This book deepened my already considerable a..." Read more of this review »
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On Trails by Robert Moor
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Ghost Dancing on the Cracker Circuit by Roger Lyle Brown
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Safe Space by Christina B. Hanhardt
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On Trails by Robert Moor
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Salt Sugar Fat by Michael Moss
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E.L. Doctorow
“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
E.L. Doctorow, Writers At Work: The Paris Review Interviews

Ray Bradbury
“And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.”
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Henry Miller
“Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.”
Henry Miller

Michael Ondaatje
“We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.

I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience.”
Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

Ayn Rand
“If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders - What would you tell him?"

I…don't know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?"

To shrug.”
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

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Whether you're interested in formal cartography, geocaching, drawing your own maps, GPSs, armchair traveling, or the sketches in the endpapers of fant ...more
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