Her eyes were springs from which ecstasy drew water.

When single shines the triple sun, What was sundered and undoneShall be whole, the two made oneBy Gelfling hand, or else by none.

We are never so free as when we own our sacred serfdom...

Mercy will we overcome thisOh one by one could we turn it aroundMaybe carry on just a little bit longerAnd I try to give you what you need

Remember that you don't write a story because you have an idea but because you have a believable character.

Heaven knows where I'll end up - but it's a safe bet that I'll never be at the top of anything! Nor do I particularly care to be.

The consolation of art comes in many forms... For some it is making, for others it is having.

. . . among all grammars meeting this condition (of adequacy), we select the simplest.

An owl sound wandered along the road with me. I didn't hear it--I breathed it into my ears.

That's too coincidental to be a coincidence.