Sometimes A Person Needs A Story More

We Simply Do Not Understand Our Place In The Universe And Have Not The Courage To Admit It.

The Writer Works On The Inside And The Critic Works On The Outside. I Don't Know What It Looks Like On The Outside, Sometimes. It's Not That I'm Not Interested-it's Not Where I Live. I Live Inside The Story.

The Land Retains An Identity Of Its Own, Still Deeper And More Subtle Than We Can Know. Our Obligation Toward It Then Becomes Simple: To Approach With An Uncalculating Mind, With An Attitude Of Regard...be Alert For Its Openings, For That Moment When Something Sacred Reveals Itself Within The Mundane, And You Know The Land Knows You Are There.

It Does Not Demean Men To Want To Be What They Imagine The Wolf To Be, But It Does Demean Them To Kill The Animal For It.

Conversations Are Efforts Toward Good Relations. They Are An Elementary Form Of Reciprocity. They Are The Exercise Of Our Love For Each Other. They Are The Enemies Of Our Loneliness, Our Doubt, Our Anxiety, Our Tendencies To Abdicate. To Continue To Be In Good Conversation Over Our Enormous And Terrifying Problems Is To Be Calling Out To Each Other In The Night. If We Attend With Imagination And Devotion To Our Conversations, We Will Find What We Need; And Someone Among Us Will Act—it Does Not Matter Whom—and We Will Survive.