My first girlfriend, when I was about 18, was a fashion designer, and my sister was a fashion designer as well. I've always been into shopping, and I've always been very aesthetic, in a sense.
Mostly, two miles an hour is good going.
Every walk of life falls under the Testicular Imperative: Either you have the world by them, or it has you.
Details of the many walks I made along the crest have blurred, now, into a pleasing tapestry of grass and space and sunlight.
There there is nothing like a wilderness journey for rekindling the fires of life. Simplicity is part of it. Cutting the cackle. Transportation reduced to leg - or arm - power, eating irons to one spoon. Such simplicity, together with sweat and silence, amplify the rhythms of any long journey, especially through unknown, untattered territory. And in the end such a journey can restore an understanding of how insignificant you are -- and thereby set you free.
Frankly, I fail to see how going for a six-month, thousand-mile walk through deserts and mountains can be judged less real than spending six months working eight hours a day, five days a week, in order to earn enough money to be able to come back to a comfortable home in the evening and sit in front of a TV screen and watch the two-dimensional image of some guy talking about a book he has written on a six-month, thousand-mile walk through deserts and mountains.
I find that the three truly great times for thinking thoughts are when I am standing in the shower, sitting on the john, or walking. And the greatest of these, by far, is walking.
My theme for philanthropy is the same approach I used with technology: to find a need and fill it.
There is more done with pens than with swords.
Marriage can either be a classroom where people become wiser and better, or a prison where people become resentful; and bitter.
Real life has always let me down. That's why I do the monologues. I have always said I would rather tell a life than live a life. But I have to live a life in order to tell one.