She Was Like A Butterfly, Full Of

And At This Moment In History, Our Core Value Happens To Be The Raw, Aching Truth Of The Human Predicament. It May Also Be The Only Belief That Can Save Us As A Species. A Species That Will Continue To Find Comfort And Delight In The Companionship Of Animals, The Miracle Of Birds, The Colours Of The Corals And The Majesty Of The Forests. We Are In It Together, On This Blue Spinning Marble In The Cold And Silent Void. And We Must Act On That Belief, If We Are Going To Be Able To Continue To Live A Good Life Here, In This Beautiful And Fragile Country, On This Lovely Planet, Our Only Home.

Sydney In The 1960s Wasn't The Exuberant Multicultural Metropolis It Is Today. Out In The City's Western Reaches, Days Passed In A Sun-struck Stupor. In The Evenings, Families Gathered On Their Verandas Waiting For The 'southerly Buster' - The Thunderstorm That Would Break The Heat And Leave The Air Cool Enough To Allow Sleep.

If Screenwriters Have To Kill Off A Female Character, They Love To Give Her Cancer. We've Seen So Many Great Actresses Go Down To The Big C: Ali Macgraw, Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson, Debra Winger, Susan Sarandon.

I Swim In A Sea Of Words. They Flow Around Me And Through Me And, By A Process That Is Not Fully Clear To Me, Some Delicate Hidden Membrane Draws Forth The Stuff That Is The Necessary Condition Of My Life.

Certainly I'm Still Mining My Experiences As A Journalist. I Think It's No Coincidence That All Three Of My Novels Basically Are About How People Act In A Time Of Catastrophe. Do They Go To Their Best Self Or Their Worst Self?