“West had woken up something inside of me. I never felt more alive than I did when I was with West. West pushed me to be more. More human and yet more cybernetic at the same time. West could go anywhere with me. He could nearly match me step for step on scouting duties, could hunt with me. But I still didnt fully trust him. West kept too many secrets, had lied to me too many times. And he almost seemed to like to make me angry.”

“....how good Mrs. West could have written such books and collected so many hard works, with all her family cares, is still more a matter of astonishment! Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton and doses of rhubarb.”

“I don't have to write to South West buddy. In an hour South West gonna come looking for me!”

“Ultimately, I found my instincts mirrored in a line from Thoreau: 'My needle...always settles between west and south-southwest. The future lies that way to me, and the earth seems more exhausted and richer on that side.”

“He crossed the room to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. In three steps, he had me backed up against the bookcase. Before I could do more than catch my breath, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.”

“Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water! And east is east and west is west and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does. Now, uh... now you tell me what you know.”