"Life's not so strange as is the way folk look at it.
You and I, now,--we're different! What I care for is just every common day as it comes naturally along, with woods in it, and Indians, and an elk or two at gaze, and a boat to get through the rapids, and a drop of kill-devil rum, and some shooting, and a petticoat somewhere, and a hand at cards,--just every common day! But you build your house upon to-morrow.

I care for the game, and you care for the prize.

Don't go too fast and far,--I've seen men pass the prize on the road and never know it! Don't you be that kind, Lewis." "I won't," said the boy.

"But of course one plays to win.

After supper, will you tell me about New Orleans and the Mississippi, and the French and the Spaniards, and the moss that hangs from the trees, and the oranges that grow like apples?
I had rather be king of that country than Governor of Virginia." The sun set, and the chill dusk of autumn wrapped the yellow sedge, the dusty road, and the pines upon the horizon.