Not Everything Has To Mean Something. Some

You Can't Stand Up To The Night Until You Understand What's Hiding In Its Shadows.

All Forests Have Their Own Personality. I Don't Just Mean The Obvious Differences, Like How An English Woodland Is Different From A Central American Rain Forest, Or Comparing Tracts Of West Coast Redwoods To The Saguaro Forests Of The American Southwest... They Each Have Their Own Gossip, Their Own Sound, Their Own Rustling Whispers And Smells. A Voice Speaks Up When You Enter Their Acres That Can't Be Mistaken For One You'd Hear Anyplace Else, A Voice True To Those Particular Tress, Individual Rather Than Of Their Species.

The Problem With Children Is That You Have To Put Up With Their Parents.

I Always Feel That There Is A Curtain, You Know, That If I Could Just Peek Behind The Curtain I'd See How The World Really Works. And Since I Haven't Had It I Have To Write About It Instead.

I Don't Think The World Is The Way We Like To Think It Is. I Don't Think It's One Solid World, But Many, Thousands Upon Thousands Of Them--as Many As There Are People--because Each Person Perceives The World In His Or Her Own Way; Each Lives In His Or Her Own World. Sometimes They Connect, For A Moment, Or More Rarely, For A Lifetime, But Mostly We Are Alone, Each Living In Our Own World, Suffering Our Small Deaths.