All food is the gift of the gods and has something of the miraculous, the egg no less than the truffle.

A part, a large part, of traveling is an engagement of the ego v. the world. The world is hydra headed, as old as the rocks and as changing as the sea, enmeshed inextricably in its ways. The ego wants to arrive at places safely and on time.

I write because I'm a writer. It is rather like cooking: to make something out of the raw material at hand.

It would seem that in history it's never a tooth for a tooth, but a thousand, a hundred thousand for one.

I detest . . . anything over-cooked, over-herbed, over-sauced, over elaborate. Nothing can go very far wrong at table as long as there is honest bread, butter, olive oil, a generous spirit, lively appetites and attention to what we are eating.

public opinion, the sum of private opinions, does matter, can matter often for good.

The future of human society. Had it made an irrevocably false start? The compass error that gets harder to correct with every mile you go?