More and more I lived in books, they were my comfort, refuge, addiction, compensation for the humiliations that attended contact with the world outside.

Battle is gruesome, but it is vigorous, alive. The aftermath is the worst of it: adrenaline fades, quiet sweeps in, and there’s nothing to distract you from the mess of bodies and disturbed earth.

It's the old headpiece that makes a man, the rest is all rubbish.

A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep.

When you have something so important, something that you'll stay awake for, something you know that you were designed to do, well, it's worth getting a few dark circles, don't you think?

I'm not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ... if I can't take him with me, I don't want to go.

Employers able to work together with workers and sharing gains and profits will lead to a much better world, getting away from income inequality.

Let Harlequin be taken with a fit of the colic, and his trappings will have to serve that mood too.

Next to happiness, perhaps enmity is the most healthful stimulant of the human mind.

When I'm happiest writing is just not knowing where it goes and just let the characters bring you there.