“If I am not crushedby cliff slideI will becomethe summit”

“I am poetry,surrounding the dreamer,Ever present,I capture the spirit,enslavethe reluctant pen,and becomethe breathon the writer's only road.”

“I had never climbed a mountain, but standing at the bottom, looking at the summit, thinking, “How the fuck am I going to make it?” was pointless.”

“To me the mountain mass lies nobly mute,The whences and the whys I don't dispute.When Nature by and in herself was founded,In purity the earthen sphere she rounded.In summit and in gorge did pleasure seek,And threaded cliff to cliff and peak to peak;Then did she fashion sloping hills at peaceAnd gently down into the vale release.All greens and grows, and to her gay abundanceYour swirling lunacies are sheer redundance.”

“Why am I here? I was falling off a cliff just a minute ago, and then I landed on your floor.”Estelle looked down to the floor, up at the ceiling, and then to Riley. Estelle said, “There is no cliff above my ceiling.”

“I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the quest. I wished to know the meaning of all things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction. Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a sacrifice on their alters.”