So Long As We Only Believe In

Question Four: What Book Would You Give To Every Child? Answer: I Wouldn't Give Them A Book. Books Are Part Of The Problem: This Strange Belief That A Tree Has Nothing To Say Until It Is Murdered, Its Flesh Pulped, And Then (human) People Stain This Flesh With Words. I Would Take Children Outside And Put Them Face To Face With Chipmunks, Dragonflies, Tadpoles, Hummingbirds, Stones, Rivers, Trees, Crawdads. That Said, If You're Going To Force Me To Give Them A Book, It Would Be The Wind In The Willows, Which I Hope Would Remind Them To Go Outside.

For Us To Maintain Our Way Of Living, We Must Tell Lies To Each Other And Especially To Ourselves. The Lies Are Necessary Because, Without Them, Many Deplorable Acts Would Become Impossibilities.

Every Morning When I Awake I Ask Myself Whether I Should Write Or Blow Up A Dam. I Tell Myself I Should Keep Writing, Though I'm Not Sure That's Right

We Must Learn How To Think Like The Planet.

Have You Ever Felt Love? Did You Need Scientific Proof Of This? How Would You Have Definitively And Scientifically Proved Your Love Existed? If You Could Not Prove It, Would That Mean Your Love Didn't Exist? What Would You Trust: Your Own Feelings, Or Science?