The most inspiring objects are books. I have about 5,000 volumes in my home library. It's an unending source of visuals and ideas.

Michael Pollan is a champion. In all ways. A man of great integrity, humor, and common sense and kindness.

We could speak about the meaning of life vis-a-vis non-consequential/deontological theories, apodictic transformation schemata, the incoherence of exemplification, metaphysical realism, Cartesian interactive dualism, revised non reductive dualism, postmodernist grammatology and dicey dichotomies. But we would still be left with Nietzsche's preposterous mustache which instills great anguish and skepticism in the brain, which leads (as it did in his case) to utter madness. I suggest we go to Paris instead.

Soon enough it will be me struggling (valiantly?) to walk - lugging my stuff around. How are we all so brave as to take step after step? Day after day? How are we so optimistic, so careful not to trip and yet do trip, and then get up and say O.K. Why do I feel so sorry for everyone and so proud?

It's almost impossible to reconcile the realities of how one feels during the day, hour by hour. But I approach things not cynically.

I said, 'Well, how much space do I have?' And they said, 'Well, you know, it's the Internet.'

Washing dishes is the anecdote to confusion. I know that for a fact.