Even while I protest the assembly-line production of our food, our songs, our language, and eventually our souls, I know that it was a rare home that baked good bread in the old days. Mother's cooking was with rare exceptions poor, that good unpasteurized milk touched only by flies and bits of manure crawled with bacteria, the healthy old-time life was riddled with aches, sudden death from unknown causes, and that sweet local speech I mourn was the child of illiteracy and ignorance. It is the nature of a man as he grows older, a small bridge in time, to protest against change, particularly change for the better.

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 rubbe…

I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love.

Oh, we can populate the dark with horrors, even we who think ourselves informed and sure, believing nothing we cannot measure or weigh. I know beyond all doubt…

The history of mankind is the instant between two strides taken by a traveler.

There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present, and invoke the security of th…

While early American society was an agrarian society, it was fast becoming more commercial, and commercial goals made their way among its agricultural classes …