The psychiatrist wants to know why I go out and hike around in the forests and watch the birds and collect butterflies. I'll show you my collection some day.Good.They want to know what I do with my time. I tell them that sometimes I just sit and think. But I won't tell them what. I've got them running. And sometimes, I tell them, I like to put my head back, like this, and let the rain fall in my mouth. It tastes just like wine. Have you ever tried it?

Get the big truth first. If you get the big truth, the small truths will accumulate around it.

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.

Stuff your eyes with wonder.

I'm being ironic. Don't interrupt a man in the midst of being ironic, it's not polite. There!

Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip, for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.

But with the library, it's like catnip, I suppose: you begin to run in circles because there's so much to look at and read.