I think we’re made to run. We have these long legs for a reason. They’re made to be used and we aren’t forced to use our legs anymore.
Never give into anything you don’t believe in with your heart. You may face struggle or hardship and be thrown to the ground but never give in. Cowboy the fuck up, rub some dirt on it and keep fighting.
Endure and survive.
When I would be in a shit hole third world country dealing with evil, destruction, and poverty. I appreciated what I had back home. Because when I got back home I took it for granted. I took advantage of things. I went back to my lazy ass American life on my lazyboy and my cable T.V., my Internet and all the things that we feel are precious or you know. Not even a luxury. It’s like it’s a right to have that shit now. I see my kids playing with all the toys and shit in the world that they have everything they ever could need and want. In America we have every opportunity to make something of ourselves.You go overseas and you’ll see kids playing with a piece of wire they turned into a wheel and another piece of wire to roll it down the street and there’s twenty kids chasing it and you put things in perspective really quick. And you realize. You know what? Yeah, it is a good deal. It’s fucking awesome. So be true to yourself. Don’t abandon your core. And fight for what you believe in. Because very soon one day it might be gone. Especially if we don’t fight for it.
"What one man can do, another can do."
Never give in.
Whatever it takes, I will do.
Your thoroughbred camper likes not the attentions of a landlord, nor will he suffer himself to be rooted to the soil by cares of ownership or lease. It is not possession of the land, but of the landscape, that enjoys; and as for that, all the wild parts of the earth are his, by a title that carries with it no obligation but that he shall not desecrate nor lay them waste.
Houses, to such a one, in summer are little better than cages; fences and walls are his abomination; plowed fields are only so many patches of torn and tormented earth. The sleek comeliness of pasture it too prim and artificial, domestic cattle have a meek and ignoble bearing, fields of grain are monotonous to his eyes, which turn for relief to abandoned old-field, overgrown with thicket, that still harbors some the shy children of the wild. It is not the clearing but the unfenced wilderness that is the camper’s real home. He is brother to that good old friend of mine who in gentle satire of our formal gardens and close- cropped lawns, was wont to say, ‘I love the unimproved works of God.
Horace Kephart in camp in the Smokies.
You could be free, too. You don’t need to live your whole life taking commands from old men. Wake up when you want to wake up. l could show you the streams to fish, the woods to hunt. Build yourself a cabin and find a woman to lie with in the night.