“I would do something and let it sit for three months… just brood about and decide I needed to slightly change something here or there. Or one character wasn’t quite right. But I think everybody goes through this.”

What I am very disturbed about is this trend of everything happening faster and faster and faster and there being more and more general noise in the world, and less and less time for quiet reflection on who we are, and where we’re going.

Nature is purposeless. Nature simply is. We may find nature beautiful or terrible, but those feelings are human constructions. Such utter and complete mindlessness is hard for us to accept.

But what is the past? Could it be, the firmness of the past is just illusion? Could the past be a kaleidoscope, a pattern of images that shift with each disturbance of a sudden breeze, a laugh, a thought? And if the shift is everywhere, how would we know?

Making that book into a film is going to be quite a challenge.

Who would fare better in this world of fitful time? Those who have seen the future and live only one life? Or those who have not seen the future and wait to live life? Or those who deny the future and live two lives?

For me, spirituality includes the belief in things larger than ourselves, an appreciation of nature and beauty, a sensitivity to the world, a feeling of shared connection with other living things, a desire to help people less fortunate than ourselves.

A novel has to be an emotional experience, a trip of the imagination, and because science has raised so many issues that concern and affect humans, it’s a good starting place for me.

Just didn’t know whether I would finish the book much less for it to come close to what I intended. I think that for any novel you never know exactly how the book is going to turn out…

I spend a lot of time just listening to the ospreys. I watch them go through their life cycle. They spend the winter in South America.

I think that the scienti?c way of looking at the world, and the humanistic way of looking at the world are complementary.

One metaphor for how we are living is that you see so may people with cell phones.

My second novel, “Good Benito”, was not finished. I wished that I had spent another year with it.

An unusual counterpoint between personal history and the history of a young nation. Haunting, powerful, and beautifully written.

While people can be doubted, time cannot be doubted. While people brood, time skips ahead without looking back.

Each person who gets stuck in time gets stuck alone.

In this world, time has three dimensions, like space.

Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.

A feeling of having been injured, on which his mind can brood from hour to hour, allowing him to plead his own cause in his own court, within his own heart, and always to plead it successfully.

The mother and father osprey stay together. It’s a monogamous relationship. And every summer they raise a new brood of children.

For while the movements of people are unpredictable, the movement of time is predictable. While people can be doubted, time cannot be doubted. While people brood, time skips ahead without looking back.

While people can be doubted, time cannot be doubted. While people brood, time skips ahead without looking back.