My first serious project was photographing badgers - very, very difficult as they are shy and nocturnal.

I carry a notebook full of sketches of pictures I want to take - they are really scruffy sketches, but at least I am going out there with a clear objective.

All I really wanted to do was wildlife photography.

So about twenty years ago I gave up on painting - and got into terrible debt after buying a load of camera gear!

A large wildlife book, start to finish, could take one to two years, but then I would expect to get several good (nature) magazine features off the back of this, plus of course a lot of stock.

Close encounters are bad. Bad for the animal, as it causes stress, and bad for me for exactly the same reason.

In The States I would have no edge, no advantage at all.

The Kalahari is brilliant - and easy to visit.

Photography started as a means of getting reference material for my paintings of nature subjects.

For the first few years we lived in a tiny rented cottage at the bottom of a friend's garden. We often joked that there was plenty of film in the fridge, but not too much food!

Currently I am working on another three books, doing a lot of magazine work, am shooting for fifteen stock agencies, plus my own photo library - all this keeps me quite busy!

And all meet in singing, which braids together the different knowings into a wide and subtle music, the music of living.

Wisdom of the Ages: "Look out Below!" Air Asia's catchy new advertising slogan.

Wouldn't it be great to be gifted? In fact... It turns out that choices lead to habits. Habits become talents. Talents are labeled gifts. You're not born this way, you get this way.

Human knowledge is never contained in one person. It grows from the relationships we create between each other and the world, and still, it is never complete.

It is better to prevent crimes than to punish them.

Why should it be illegal to sell something that's perfectly legal to give away?

Rest in natural great peace, this exhausted mind, beaten helpless by karma and neurotic thought, like the relentless fury of the pounding waves in the infinite ocean of samsara.

It's the little questions from women about tappets that finally push men over the edge.

avarice is especially, I suppose, a disease of the imagination.

Some call me a gangster of love