Love is the most important thing in our lives, a passion for which we would fight or die, and yet we're reluctant to linger over its names. Without a supple vocabulary, we can't even talk or think about it directly.

No matter how politely one says it, we owe our existence to the farts of blue-green algae.

There is that unique moment when one confronts something new and astonishment begins.

When I go biking, I am mentally far far away from civilization. The world is breaking someone else's heart.

Which is crueler, an old man's lost memories of a life lived, or a young man's lost memories of the life he meant to live?

There's no place you can go on the prairie that you don't hear the white noise of the wind, steady and rough as surf curling along a non-existant shore.

To begin to understand the gorgeous fever that is consciousness, we must try to understand the senses and what they can tell us about the ravishing world we have the privilege to inhabit.