The so-called Real World. Human misery and sadness. Blind politics and general cruelty.

Writing is writing, and stories are stories. Perhaps the only true genres are fiction and nonfiction. And even there, who can be sure?

The bitterness of joy lies in the knowledge that is cannot last. Nor should joy last beyond a certain season, for, after that season, even joy would become merely habit.

She looked, and a scarlet butterfly flew away from her, away down the length of the tower, and then another, another, an unraveling scarf of butterflies like winged blood.

Archetypes are universal, and, in subtle or extravagant ways, interchangeable.

We need the expressive arts, the ancient scribes, the storytellers, the priests.

The soul is a magician. Only living flesh hampers it.

When I am fascinated by something, I like to play with it.

I submitted manuscripts to publishers. This was not so much a feeling that I should be published as a wish to escape the feared and hated drudgery of normal work.

No one is ever ordinary.

Maidens who stay maidens turn into saints. Old women become sorceresses. Tough jobs, both of these.

Let them judge you, but remain virtuous.Let them criticize you, but remain wise.Let them misunderstand you, but remain kind. Let them hate you, but remain exceptional.

Tragedy had its compensations. Once the worst misfortune occurred one never worried about the minor ones.

But love is something that has to be as selfish as it is unselfish. You can't make yourself love someone because you feel like you should. Just wanting to love someone isn't enough.

Trees are right at the heart of all the necessary debates: ecological, social, economic, political, moral, religious.

How can we expect something positive to come from all the negative that we put into this world?

It was easier to conquer it than to know what to do with it.

Let your monkey do it.

I decided upon the thought that I can only find myself once I can admit to myself and approve that both sides are sides of myself.

People are always misquoting me.

I buried Little Ann by the side of Old Dan. I knew that was where she wanted to be. I also buried a part of my life along with my dog.