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“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow.

But of course, without the top you can’t have any sides. It’s the top that defines the sides. So on we go—we have a long way—no hurry—just one step after the next—with a little Chautauqua for entertainment -- .Mental reflection is so much more interesting than TV it’s a shame more people don’t switch over to it. They probably think what they hear is unimportant but it never is.”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

“Drilling without thinking has of course been Republican party policy since May 2008. With gas prices soaring to unprecedented heights, that's when the conservative leader Newt Gingrich unveiled the slogan 'Drill Here, Drill Now, Pay Less'—with an emphasis on the now. The wildly popular campaign was a cry against caution, against study, against measured action. In Gingrich's telling, drilling at home wherever the oil and gas might be—locked in Rocky Mountain shale, in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and deep offshore—was a surefire way to lower the price at the pump, create jobs, and kick Arab ass all at once. In the face of this triple win, caring about the environment was for sissies: as senator Mitch McConnell put it, 'in Alabama and Mississippi and Louisiana and Texas, they think oil rigs are pretty'. By the time the infamous 'Drill Baby Drill' Republican national convention rolled around, the party base was in such a frenzy for US-made fossil fuels, they would have bored under the convention floor if someone had brought a big enough drill.”
― Naomi Klein

“Under the rough and ridiculous circumstances of life in the Rocky Mountains there was something exciting and vital, full of rude poetry: the heartbeat of the West as it fought its way upward toward civilization.”
― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

“We spent June and July in the Rockies, growing stronger, feeling feral in the untamed range of mountains.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“Colorado and Wyoming are America’s highest states, averaging 6,800 feet and 6,700 feet above sea level. Utah comes in third at 6,100 feet, New Mexico, Nevada, and Idaho each break 5,000 feet, and the rest of the field is hardly worth mentioning. At 3,400 feet, Montana is only half as high as Colorado, and Alaska, despite having the highest peaks, is even further down the list at 1,900 feet. Colorado has more fourteeners than all the other U.S. states combined, and more than all of Canada too. Colorado’s lowest point (3,315 feet along the Kansas border) is higher than the highest point in twenty other states. Rivers begin here and flow away to all the points of the compass. Colorado receives no rivers from another state (unless you count the Green River’sâ€� brief in and out from Utah).Wyoming’s Wind River Range is the only mountain in North America that supplies water to all three master streams of the American West: Missouri, Colorado, and Columbia rivers.”
― Keith Meldahl, Rough-Hewn Land: A Geologic Journey from California to the Rocky Mountains

“The Rockies are therefore very young and should never be thought of as ancient. They are still in the process of building and eroding, and no one today can calculate what they will look like ten million years from now. They have the extravagant beauty of youth, the allure of adolescence, and they are mountains to be loved.”
― James A. Michener, Centennial

“The teens had gathered in an open clearing. Behind them, the banded lines of Avion Ridge formed a ragged edge between sky and ground, a rock wall looming above the trees. Ash shivered. The hikers stood in shadow here, the warmth of the day gone.”
― Danika Stone, Switchback

“The great Rocky Mountains, softly shaded in
gray, were submerged in a sea of fluffy white clouds, feathery wisps enveloping the peaks like a kingdom of the air.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, Peter

“Amelia laughed and then teased him with a kiss on the cheek.
He shook his head. "Nah! Not good enough."
Knowing what he really wanted, she kissed him lightly on the lips.
Rick smiled. "Now that's more like it."
Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a kiss to remember... a kiss that took her breath away... a kiss that made her lips tingle. As his hands did their magic, caressing her back with tenderness, Amelia sighed.
When he finally released her lips, Rick tenderly cradled her face in his hands and said, "Now that's what I call the perfect thank you." He kissed her sweet lips again. "Just remember that next time."
Amelia blinked and said breathlessly, "I'll try to remember that.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“Rick gave a mischievous grin.
"We're going to add a few things to that bucket list of yours, Amelia. You're going to have a snowball fight, make a snow angel, and go sleigh riding.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“Maybe we should stay another night," said Amelia...
Rick nodded. "You're right. Sounds good to me." He then winked at her and said with a teasing glint in his eyes, "We can both sleep in this bed to save money." He then patted the space beside him.
Amelia laughed and shook her head. "In your dreams!"
Rick chuckled. "Yeah. In my dreams is right.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“It was dusk when Rick led Amelia and Sam toward the Old Town plaza. "Come with me. You're going to love this."
Amelia could hear music in the distance. She recognized the delicate strumming of a few guitars and the faint sound of singing. As they approached the plaza, Amelia could see four men playing and singing folk songs. It was beautiful. The music was coming straight from their soul and it held her spellbound. She stood in awe and watched, loving every note that drifted toward her.
"Come here," said Rick as he motioned toward some benches. "Let's sit down."
After the three of them got comfortable, Rick put his arm around Amelia's shoulders. "If you think this is beautiful, wait until Christmas. They have Luminarias and sing Christmas songs in both English and Spanish.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“As they passed the giant saguaro cacti, Amelia knew they were getting close to home. They were magnificent, standing like humungous pitchforks in the middle of the desert. To her, it represented the American West...
Amelia noticed Sam in the distance. He seemed intrigued by the Teddy Bear Chollas. Sam was not originally from Arizona, so he seemed enchanted by the fuzzy little cactus.
As he reached toward it, Amelia yelled, "Stop! No! Don't touch that, Sam!"
But it was too late. The little razor sharp needles seemed to jump toward his finger...”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“Rick smiled mischievously and said, "I think I'm going to learn 'Kisses sweeter than wine'. It's a fun one."
Amelia laughed. "What it about?"
"It's about a guy who falls in love with this girl who has kisses sweeter than wine. As you know, folk songs have a story to tell. Well, he asked her to marry him. At first she wouldn't accept his proposal, so he had to beg and plead with her."
"Why didn't she want to marry him?"
"I think she was worried about how it would change her life. She'd been on her own for quite some time and she had to get used to the idea."
Amelia bit her lip and glanced down at her lap. With curiosity, she asked, "Did she finally accept his proposal?"
"Yup. It just took her a while to realize he was the best thing that ever happened to her." Rick grinned. "She sort of reminds me of someone else I know.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, The Mysterious Doll

“They headed across the meadow, passing groups of students eating lunch. A mottled bird that looked like a cross between a chicken and a pheasant burst from the undergrowth. Ash watched it flutter into the trees, then land in the bushes.
“What in the world�?�
Vale followed his gaze to where the bird waddled through the undergrowth. “It’s a spruce grouse.�
Ash stared into the trees. A few steps away from the meadow, the light dropped by half. “What did you call it again?�
“Spruce grouse is the official name, though they’re sometimes called prairie chickens or fool hens.�
Ash chuckled. “Fool hens, huh?�
“Yeah. People think they’re kind of dumb—the way they let other animals get close to them. They’re pretty mellow.�
Ash watched it as it faded back into the autumn foliage, the plumage a match to the brown and orange leaves. “How do you know all this stuff?�
“I don’t know,� she said. “I read things, I guess.�
“I know that, but where’d you learn the stuff about birds?�
“I’ve got a couple books on wildlife. Books on the woods, and on camping, and survival, and…� Vale shrugged. “I just read a lot of stuff. Okay?�
Ash grinned. “Pretty cool.”
― Danika Stone

“Ashton Hamid hated hiking. He hated the woods. Hated the whole insistence on “real life experiencesâ€� and “survivalâ€� and “natureâ€� in general. He took another step, wincing as the blister on his heel throbbed. THIS is why I prefer V.R.! The trees grew close together here, and the trail on which he and Vale hiked wove in and out of them like a ribbon. He squinted into the forest. If Vale wasn’t leading, he’d have no idea where to go. The trail was little more than a muddy path.”
― Danika Stone, Switchback

“While they rested, he searched for landmarks. The mountains they’d walked into were gone, a hazy gray ceiling of storm clouds in their place. It gave him the unsettling feeling of being caught inside a box. Ash turned and looked back the other direction. His attention caught on the forked top of a pine tree and he frowned. What the hellâ€�? That looks like the same tree we passed fifteen minutes ago. It felt for a moment like he was in a poorly designed game and had just come across a repeating landscape. His gaze dropped down to the path where they’d just passed. His stomach churned uneasily. The trail was a faded smudge, the line of it almost too faint to follow in the gathering darkness, but there was a small outcrop of rocks in the trees that also looked familiar.
His attention jumped back to the pronged top of the branches. “What theâ€�?”
― Danika Stone, Switchback

“Ash nodded. A moment later, sleep overtook him and he began to dream. He stood in the gamescape of Immortal Defenders, Vale in armor at his side.”
― Danika Stone