But [Everett] and McCandless, at least they tried to follow their dream. That’s what was great about them. They tried. Not many do. - Jon Krakauer

Hours slide by like minutes. The accumulated clutter of day-to-day existence — the lapses of conscience, the unpaid bills, the bungled opportunities, the dust under the couch, the inescapable prison of your genes — all of it is temporarily forgotten, crowded from your thoughts by an overpowering clarity of purpose and by the seriousness of the task at hand.

"The courtroom oath — "to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" — is applicable only to witnesses. Defense attorneys, prosecutors, and judges don't take this oath — they couldn't! Indeed, it is fair to say the American justice system is built on the foundation of not telling the whole truth. It is the job of the defense attorney — especially when representing the guilty — to prevent, by all lawful means, the "whole truth" from coming out."

It would be easy to stereotype Christopher McCandless as another boy who felt too much, a loopy young man who read too many books and lacked even a modicum of common sense. But the stereotype isn't a good fit. McCandless wasn't some feckless slacker, adrift and confused, racked by existential despair. To the contrary: His life hummed with meaning and purpose. But the meaning he wrested from existence lay beyond the comfortable path: McCandless distrusted the value of things that came easily. He demanded much of himself — more, in the end, than he could deliver.