A Person Isn't A Bird.

When I Read Good Stories, I Want To Write Good Stories Too.

Young Children Are Naturally So Philosophical. They Ask: 'what Is Real? What Is Truth?' They Have To Learn It; They Don't Automatically Know It. To Them, It's A Game. You Can Study This For Years In College, And Yet You Probably Asked It When You Were Four Or Five Years Old.

What Exactly Did People Do When They Had All The Time In The World And Could Do Whatever They Liked?

You Know, Maybe That's All Anybody Wants, Is To Be Useful. And Have Somebody Else Notice It.

It Seems To Me That We Can’t Explain All The Truly Awful Things In The World Like War And Murder And Brain Tumors, And We Can’t Fix These Things, So We Look At The Frightening Things That Are Closer To Us And We Magnify Them Until They Burst Open. Inside Is Something That We Can Manage, Something That Isn’t As Awful As It Had A First Seemed. It Is A Relief To Discover That Although There Might Be Axe Murderers And Kidnappers In The World, Most People Seem A Lot Like Us: Sometimes Afraid And Sometimes Brave, Sometimes Cruel And Sometimes Kind.