I am still in awe of the Edinburgh Book festival, even after all these years, because without losing any of its intimacy, without seeming too commercial or, I might say, "over organised" it has grown and grown and is the biggest, best-known celebration of books in the world, and yet it still fits within the wrought iron fencing.
The whole decadent vibe seems designed to be alluring even to the rich, uptight and squeamish who, in the past, may have shied away from the trappings of bondage because they seemed too garish and sleazy.
"One day, I'm like, 'It's f***ing for sure them.' And the next day I'm like, 'There's no way it's them' because it seems too savvy of Hollywood politics".
One of its central themes is that writers, artists and filmmakers, including himself, have largely ignored climate change – "he great derangement" of the title – simply because it seems too far-fetched and terrifying.
I want to be treated with respect, and as I grow older I am concerned that employers will condescend to me or deny me opportunities because I seem too young or unsure of myself.
Citizens everywhere can begin by not averting their gaze from children's suffering, because it seems too distant or the politics of conflict too complex.
For example, at the end of a one-day workshop I might omit the pile of objects, because it can seem too formal for the event.
"Imperfect" is not the adjective many of them choose when speaking about Mr. Schundler privately, because it seems too gentle.
For too many people, the issue of hunger is important but they do nothing about it because it seems too large or complex.
Last year it barred the use of Avastin for breast cancer, not because it was unsafe but because its benefits seemed too uncertain.
