Wholeness Is The Enemy Of The Artist.

The Higher The Artist, The Fewer The Gestures. The Fewer The Tools, The Greater The Imagination. The Greater The Will, The Greater The Secret Failure.

One Human Life Is Deeper Than The Ocean. Strange Fishes And Sea-monsters And Mighty Plants Live In The Rock-bed Of Our Spirits. The Whole Of Human History Is An Undiscovered Continent Deep In Our Souls. There Are Dolphins, Plants That Dream, Magic Birds Inside Us. The Sky Is Inside Us. The Earth Is In Us.

The Nigerian Storyteller Ben Okri Says That ‘in A Fractured Age, When Cynicism Is God, Here Is A Possible Heresy: We Live By Stories, We Also Live In Them. One Way Or Another We Are Living The Stories Planted In Us Early Or Along The Way, Or We Are Also Living The Stories We Planted — Knowingly Or Unknowingly — In Ourselves. We Live Stories That Either Give Our Lives Meaning Or Negate It With Meaninglessness. If We Change The Stories We Live By, Quite Possibly We Change Our Lives.’

We Have Fallen Into This Very Mean Description Of Humanity. Naturalism In Fiction Is Too Reductive In Its Definition Of Human Beings.

I Was Going To Be A Scientist.