There are some folks who spend their lives chasing the grandeur of mountains, rivers, and distant horizons, when all the while the geography of the human face is the greatest landscape of them all. Every wrinkle is a road traveled, every fold a valley of laughter or sorrow. Why, a man’s forehead is no less than the Sierra Nevada, and his jaw as weathered as the Mississippi’s banks. If you can’t find history in a face like this, you won’t find it anywhere—not even in a library.
