Steven Hubbell > Quotes

“It seems following the heart is a complicated business. No guarantees.”
― Steven Hubbell, The Year of the Wind: A Story of Letting Go

“The landscape overwhelmed me in the dawn. The very fact that I was still alive made everything seem miraculous. But the awesome majesty of the Rockies only compounded the perception that I was dwelling in a fantasy. Visiting the threshold to the other side always seemed to have that effect on me. Life is a dream, I recalled. Death is the awakening. All flesh decays. The spirit is eternal. I knew the trip was over then. I was reborn on the road once again.”
― Steven Hubbell, The Year of the Wind: A Story of Letting Go

“As I savored the meal, I struggled against the dark force that kept tugging at me, telling me I was never going to leave; adhering to my consciousness like sap, or tar, or glue; enveloping me in a sticky sickness that drained my vitality. I felt myself growing old as I sat there, the joints stiffening, the bones aching, the sense of identity melting away like a forgotten candle left to burn itself out. As I settled back into my cot for the evening hibernation, I understood I had been captured. I realized my spirit was ensnared. I knew what must be done. Whatever the cost, I told myself, I would be back on the road at dawn.”
― Steven Hubbell, The Year of the Wind: A Story of Letting Go

“About three blocks north, I found a train track, and began to follow it in the same direction I was going. The sun stabbed the immaculate white snow with a blinding glow, and I was thrilled to be a part of the show. The air was indescribably cold, but I was well insulated in my long dark wool coat. It absorbed the heat from the distant white dime of a sun which was rising in the southeastern sky but not getting much closer as it rose. Facing the icy dawn, my heart leapt with joy: I was free!  I slipped and slid and laughed on the icy rails. White was everywhere. The thick blanket made it impossible to read the terrain, especially the small details. After a time, I saw what seemed to be the perfect place to enter the freeway. There were no vehicles on it, I had seen none since I began walking parallel to it on the tracks, and that was more than an hour earlier. The entry ramp was less than fifty yards away. If I had wings, or maybe skis, I would be there in a heartbeat. When I took my second step, I was one hip deep in frozen powder; the other leg was awkwardly turned up the slope. Managing to bring the second leg down, it sunk up to the knee. As I put more pressure on it, I was now level again: both thighs hip deep in snow. I laughed at myself, then trudged forward, crawling out of the hole, slipping and landing on my face. It was both comical and frightening.”
― Steven Hubbell, The Year of the Wind: A Story of Letting Go