Illness and accidents were mysterious manifestations of the war of the spirits, fought on the battleground of the body.

Though my books are written from a historical perspective, I have goon so far back that I am in the realm of prehistorical speculation rather than simple historical fact to weave my stories around.

You learn to write by writing, and by reading and thinking about how writers have created their characters and invented their stories. If you are not a reader, don't even think about being a writer.

Life sometimes gets in the way of writing.

She lifted the drooping muzzle with both hands...It was a special embrace saved for special occasions.

Life is neither static nor unchanging. With no individuality, there can be no change, no adaptation and, in an inherently changing world, any species unable to adapt is also doomed.

I think of my books as mainstream and that's were most people who read them look for them in book stores.

Of the two, I would think of my work as closer to Science Fiction than Fantasy.

I have heard Science Fiction and Fantasy referred to as the fiction of ideas, and I like that definition, but it's the mainstream public that chooses my books for the most part.

I don't write for publishers, certainly not for critics, and not for readers, But I am delighted that so many people have found my books enjoyable and want to continue to read them.

From the beginning, when I first got an idea for a story and wondered if I could write it, it has always been the story that has driven me.

Don't mess with a wizard when he's wizarding!

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving,

Ah! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.

I think even in today's America, there's a sense that there's something vaguely sexy about cigarettes.

Never make any reference to the other person's family. "You're just like your - " because that is out, completely.

He is some brainless, beautiful creature, who should always be here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in the summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.

There's nothing terrible in death; 'Tis but to cast our robes away, And sleep at night, without a breath To break repose till dawn of day.

The work of magic is this, that it breathes and at every breath transforms realities.

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

But since I'm single, it's nice to get a kiss where I can.