We are the species that clamors to be lied to.

One writes to memorialize, and to bring to life again that which has been lost.

There is the expectation that a younger generation has the opportunity to redeem the crimes and failings of their elders and would have the strength and idealism to do so.

To the west, the Pacific Ocean, which revulses me, for its vastness cannot be fitted into any box.

I learned you don't discover the evidence of any cause in its result.

The appeal of writing is primarily the investigation of mystery.

What is memory but the repository of things doomed to be forgotten, so you must have History. You must have labor to invent History. Being faithful to all that happens to you of significance, recording days, dates, events, names, sights not relying merely upon memory which fades like a Polaroid print where you see the memory fading before your eyes like time itself retreating.