Beware Thoughts That Come In The Night.

No Yesterdays On The Road.

Instead Of Insight, Maybe All A Man Gets Is Strength To Wander For A While. Maybe The Only Gift Is A Chance To Inquire, To Know Nothing For Certain. An Inheritance Of Wonder And Nothing More.

The Open Road Is A Beckoning, A Strangeness, A Place Where A Man Can Lose Himself.

Franchises And Chains Have Come To Dominate Small Communities, But Those Same Chains Have Eliminated A Lot Of The Greasy Spoons, Places You Didn't Want To Eat In The First Place.

Beware Thoughts That Come In The Night. They Aren't Turned Properly; They Come In Askew, Free Of Sense And Restriction, Deriving From The Most Remote Of Sources.