The World Is Moving Faster And Faster,

In Our Constant Search For Meaning In This Baffling And Temporary Existence, Trapped As We Are Within Our Three Pounds Of Neurons, It Is Sometimes Hard To Tell What Is Real. We Often Invent What Isn't There. Or Ignore What Is. We Try To Impose Order, Both In Our Minds And In Our Conceptions Of External Reality. We Try To Connect. We Try To Find Truth. We Dream And We Hope. And Underneath All Of These Strivings, We Are Haunted By The Suspicion That What We See And Understand Of The World Is Only A Tiny Piece Of The Whole.

Originality Is Also Very Important To A Writer. And All Of The Writers I've Mentioned, Of Course, Are Original, But It's Important To Me That Every Book That I Do Be Really A Completely Fresh And New Look At The World. And Of Course, That Makes It Frightening To Start A New Book Because You Can't Really Depend Upon What You've Done With Previous Books.

One Day I'm Going To Write A Book About Osprey. It Has Really Gotten Deep Into My Bloodstream. So When You Ask What Else I Do, I Feel Like This Is Part Of What I Do....is To Watch These Birds.

I Would Think That You Are More Fluent With The Rational. It Has Its Appeal. But The Irrational Permits A Greater Exercise Of ... Shall We Say, Power.

Nature Is Purposeless. Nature Simply Is. We May Find Nature Beautiful Or Terrible, But Those Feelings Are Human Constructions. Such Utter And Complete Mindlessness Is Hard For Us To Accept. We Feel Such A Strong Connection To Nature. But The Relationship Between Nature And Us Is One-sided. There Is No Reciprocity. There Is No Mind On The Other Side Of The Wall.