In Making War With Nature, There Was

A Writer Has To Have Some Kind Of Compulsive Drive To Do His Work. If You Don't Have It, You'd Better Find Another Kind Of Work, Because It's The Only Compulsion That Will Drive You Through The Psychological Nightmares Of Writing.

When The Climbers In 1953 Planted Their Flags On The Highest Mountain, They Set Them In Snow Over The Skeletons Of Creatures That Had Lived In The Warm Clear Ocean That India, Moving North, Blanked Out. Possibly As Much As Twenty Thousand Feet Below The Seafloor, The Skeletal Remains Had Turned Into Rock. This One Fact Is A Treatise In Itself On The Movements Of The Surface Of The Earth. If By Some Fiat I Had To Restrict All This Writing To One Sentence, This Is The One I Would Choose: The Summit Of Mt. Everest Is Marine Limestone.

The Summit Of Mount Everest Is Marine Limestone.

Writing Is A Suspension Of Life In Order To Re-create Life

If You Free Yourself From The Conventional Reaction To A Quantity Like A Million Years, You Free Yourself A Bit From The Boundaries Of Human Time. And Then In A Way You Do Not Live At All, But In Another Way You Live Forever.