Hurricane season brings a humbling reminder that, despite our technologies, most of nature remains unpredictable.

Much of life becomes background, but it is the province of art to throw buckets of light into the shadows and make life new again.

In the early years of the Uprising, we survived on one meal a day of horse meat and soup, but by the end we ate only dried peas, dogs, cats and birds.

... love is an act of sedition, a revolt against reason, an uprising in the body politic, a private mutiny.

Because we can't escape our ancient hunger to live close to nature, we encircle the house with lawns and gardens, install picture windows, adopt pets and Boston ferns, and scent everything that touches our lives.

For if I do something, I never do it thoughtlessly.

In our heart we know that life loves life. Yet we feast on some of the other life-forms with which we share our planet; we kill to live. Taste is what carries us across that rocky moral terrain, what makes the horror palatable, and the paradox we could not defend by reason melts into a jungle of sweet temptations.