Expose a child to a particular environment at this susceptible time and he will perceive in the shapes of that environment until he dies.

American individualism, much celebrated and cherished, has developed without its essential corrective, which is belonging.

In fiction I think we should have no agenda but to tell the truth.

Have a chance to create a society to match its scenery.

A muddy little stream, a village grown unfamiliar with time and trees. I turn around and retrace my way up Main Street and park and have a Coke in the confectionery store. It is run by a Greek, as it used to be, but whether the same Greek or another I would not know. He does not recognize me, nor I him. Only the smell of his place is familiar, syrupy with old delights, as if the ghost of my first banana split had come close to breathe on me.

I gave my heart to the mountains the minute I stood beside this river with its spray in my face and watched it thunder into foam, smooth to green glass over sunken rocks, shatter to foam again. I was fascinated by how it sped by and yet was always there; its roar shook both the earth and me.

This early piece of the morning is mine.