People Are Locked Up In

I Always Wince A Little Bit When I Send Me To Each Of My New Books. I Wince At Submitting Myself To My Father's Judgment. But, Of Course, He's Such A Fond Father That He Always Writes Back, Saying It's The Greatest Thing Ever Written.

In The World I Notice Persons Are Nearly Always Stressed And Have No Time...i Don't Know How Persons With Jobs Do The Jobs And All The Living As Well...i Guess The Time Gets Spread Very Thin Like Butter All Over The World, The Roads And Houses And Playgrounds And Stores, So There's Only A Little Smear Of Time On Each Place, Then Everyone Has To Hurry On To The Next Bit.

[e]verywhere I'm Looking At Kids, Adults Mostly Don't Seem To Like Them, Not Even The Parents Do. They Call The Kids Gorgeous And So Cute, They Make The Kids Do The Thing All Over Again So They Can Take A Photo, But They Don't Want To Actually Play With Them, They'd Rather Drink Coffee Talking To Other Adults. Sometimes There's A Small Kid Crying And The Ma Of It Doesn't Even Hear.

I'm Very Interested In How Idealistic Young People Can Get Caught Up In All Sorts Of Systems Of Extreme Belief, You Know, Whether It's Cults Or Whether It's Suicide Bombers.

I've Always Been Religiously Inclined, But It Doesn't Come Up In Most Of My Books.