You Do Your Best Work When You're

The Mystical Perception (which Is Only "mystical" If Reality Is Limited To What Can Be Measured By The Intellect And Senses) Is Remarkably Consistent In All Ages And All Places. All Phenomena Are Processes, Connections, All Is In Flux...have The Mind Screens Knocked Away To See There Is No Real Edge To Anything, That In The Endless Interpenetration Of The Universe, A Molecular Flow, A Cosmic Energy Shimmers In All Stone And Steel As Well As Flesh.

There's An Elegiac Quality In Watching [american Wilderness] Go, Because It's Our Own Myth, The American Frontier, That's Deteriorating Before Our Eyes. I Feel A Deep Sorrow That My Kids Will Never Get To See What I've Seen, And Their Kids Will See Nothing; There's A Deep Sadness Whenever I Look At Nature Now.

Amazingly, We Take For Granted That Instinct For Survival, Fear Of Death, Must Separate Us From The Happiness Of Pure And Uninterpreted Experience, In Which Body, Mind, And Nature Are The Same. This Retreat From Wonder, The Backing Away Like Lobsters Into Safe Crannies, The Desperate Instinct That Our Life Passes Unlived, Is Reflected In Proliferation Without Joy, Corrosive Money Rot, The Gross Befouling Of The Earth And Air And Water From Which We Came.

I ... Had What Kierkegaard Called 'the Sickness Of Infinitude,' Wandering From One Path To Another With No Real Recognition That I Was Embarked Upon A Search, And Scarcely A Clue As To What I Might Be After. I Only Knew That At The Bottom Of Each Breath There Was A Hollow Place That Needed To Be Filled.

I Have Never Figured Out How Women Work But I Do Know That Their Skin Color Has No Significance. Black Or White, Every Last One Is Pretty Pink On The Inside And They Are All Impossible.