The new American finds his challenge and his love in the traffic-choked streets, skies nested in smog… — John Steinbeck
The new American finds his challenge and his love in the traffic-choked streets, skies nested in smog, choking with the acids of industry, the screech of rubber and houses leashed in against one another while the townlets wither a time and die. This is not offered in criticism but only as observation. And I am sure that, as all pendulums reverse their swing, so eventually will the swollen cities rupture like dehiscent wombs and disperse their children back to the countryside.
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I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love.
Sectional football games have the glory and the despair of war, and when a Texas team takes the field against a foreign state, it is an army with banners.
When we get these thruways across the whole country, as we will and must, it will be possible to drive from New York to California without seeing a single thing.
