I like my own private piety, the one that finds me alone and writing. I’m not interested in a public god who wants us to do what others do, to hide behind the hatred of the herd, and to roar with the crowd. That’s not a spiritual life to me; that’s an “unexamined life not worth living,” as Socrates wrote.
I wouldn’t peg myself as an intellectual, but I can put on the workclothes of the deep comprehension of the world and this comes from sitting up late at night writing my own fiction.
“What was the point of cataloguing the world without loving it? What is the reason for living life, other than to love it?” Socrates