I sat at my window in Richmond watching the river flow, thinking how we are all trapped by our own small lives. We cannot build a world because we are tied so tightly to the people beside us. To write truly, one must look beyond this narrow circle, yet many stop there, recording only their own private sorrows and joys as if they were the whole of human experience.

When you read tonight, do not let your mind shrink to the size of a single room or a single afternoon. Ask yourself what truth lies outside your immediate senses. We must learn to trust our intellects even when our feelings tremble, for it is only by weaving these threads together that we create something lasting enough to survive the years.