I feel for the first time, an American, on straight roads to the horizon on flat land of sharecroppers, of revivalism, of the violent West, bred in America, driftng and rooting, unsinkable and successful in "dry goods", overwhelmed by nature's majesty, its chaos, sunk in mud, freezing before the Cold Harbor, the lonely trapper, the bustling mining town, homesteaders and range wars  and gambling and crime.