“Night is coming on and I am filled with indescribable loneliness. Felt feverish; bathed in a black, silent stream;” — John Muir Copy Share Image
“It felt like chicken soup when I had a snotty mess of a cold, like a glass of icy apple juice when my body was on fire with fever. I didn't disappear into his embrace like I had in Max's,… — Sarah Chamberlain Copy Share Image
