Toward the end of June, Emory had mailed our parents Chris' final grade report. Almost all A's. A in Apartheid in South African Society. A- in Contemporary African Politics and the Food Crisis in Africa. And on it went. Clever boy, my brother. But by the end of July, we hadn't heard anything from him and my parents were becoming unsettled. Chris had never had a phone, so they decided to drive down to Atlanta and surprise him. When they arrived at the apartment, there was a "For Rent" sign up and the manager said that Chris had moved out at the end of May. So when they got home, I had to hand them all the letters that they had sent Chris that summer, which had been returned in a bundle. Chris had arranged for the post office to hold them until August 1, to buy himself some time. I understood what he was doing. That he had spent four years fulfilling the absurd and tedious duty of graduating from college and now he was emancipated from that world of abstraction, false security, parents and material excess, the things that cut Chris off from the truth of his existence.
Most scenes together: Christopher McCandless / Alexander Supertramp & Ron (5), Christopher McCandless / Alexander Supertramp & Tracy (4), Christopher McCandless / Alexander Supertramp & Rainey (3)
Into the Wild quotes
Page 3 of 3Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Now, after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual revolution. No longer to be poisoned by civilization, he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild. Alexander Supertramp. May 1992.
Wayne. Greetings from Fairbanks! Arrived here two days ago. It was very difficult to catch rides in the Yukon territory, but I finally got here. Picked up a new book on the local flora and fauna. I'm prepared and have stocked all necessary comforts to live off the land for a few months. Might be a very long time before I return south. Just wanted to let you know, you're a great man. I now walk into the wild.
What did his voice sound like now? What would he tell about now? I realized that the words to my thoughts were of less and less meaning. Chris was writing his story and it had to be Chris who would tell it.
When a search of tax records revealed that Chris had given his life savings to charity, Mom and Dad became what Dad called "mobilized." They hired a private investigator and notified law enforcement nationwide, determined to track him down. I just figured he'd be with gypsies, far from the eyes of the law.
With almost a year having passed since Chris' disappearance my parents' anger had turned to desperation. Their guilt was giving way to pain. And pain seemed to bring them closer. Even their faces had changed. She convinces herself it's Chris, that's her son whenever she passes a stray. And I fear for the mother in her. Instincts that seem to sense the threat of a loss so huge and irrevocable that the mind balks at taking its measure. I had begun to wonder if I can understand what Chris is saying any longer. But I catch myself and remember that these are not the parents I grew up with. That people soften by the forced reflection that comes with loss. Still everything Chris is saying has to be said. And I trust that everything he is doing has to be done. This is our life.
Wayne. Hate to think of a wild man like you in a cage. Tramping is too easy with all this money you paid me. My days were more exciting when I was penniless. I've decided I'm going to live this life for some time to come. The freedom and simple beauty is just too good to pass up...
What if I were smiling and running into your arms? Would you see then what I see now?
For a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment, and to call each thing by its right name. By its right name.
I have lived through much, and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them. And work which one hopes may be of some use. Then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor. Such is my idea of happiness. And then, on top of all that, you for a mate, and children perhaps. What more can the heart of a man desire?
If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the possibility of life is destroyed.
The sea's only gifts are harsh blows, and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong. Now, I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong, but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing the blind, deaf stone alone with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.
It should not be denied that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations. Absolute freedom. And the road has always led west.
You know, you're really good. I mean, you're like... a hundred, thousand times better than like any apple I've ever had. I'm not Superman, I'm Supertramp. You're Superapple. You're so tasty. You're so organic, so natural. You're the apple of my eye.
"Hey, Dad, can I light the barbeque, please, Dad, this time?" "Well, Son, you can go get the lighter fluid." "Come on, Dad. Please, Dad, please?" "Well, why not, Walt? That sounds like a good idea..." "Shut up, Carine! Shut up, Carine! No, Billie. I told you once. Don't make me tell you again. Okay? Okay? You hear me? You hear me, woman? You hear me, woman? Huh? You hear me, woman?" "Sorry. Sorry, Walt. I'm sorry."