Writer's block is a luxury most people with deadlines don't have.

A self is a frightening thing to waste, it's the lens through which one's whole life is viewed, and few people are willing to part with it, in death, or even imaginatively, in art.

We live on the leash of our senses. There is no way in which to understand the world without first detecting it through the radar-net of our senses.

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.

Ecstasy is what everyone craves - not love or sex, but a hot-blooded, soaring intensity, in which being alive is a joy and a thrill. That enravishment doesn't give meaning to life, and yet without it life seems meaningless.

Who you are isn't tied solely to what you say, even though it may feel that way to you now.

We evolved as creatures knitted into the fabric of nature, and without its intimate truths, we can find ourselves unraveling.