There are no simple words. I don't know why I thought I could hide anything behind language.

Imagination is the golden-eyed monster that never sleeps. It must be fed; it cannot be ignored.

Those who fear the imagination condemn it: something childish, they say, something monsterish, misbegotten. Not all of us dream awake. But those of us who do have no choice.

It’s an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.

There was the gaudy patch of sunflowers beside the west gate of the palace of the Prince of Ombria, that did nothing all day long but turn their golden-haired, thousand-eyed faces to follow the sun.

She is our moon. Our tidal pull. She is the rich deep beneath the sea, the buried treasure, the expression in the owl's eye, the perfume in the wild rose. She is what the water says when it moves.

The odd thing about people who had many books was how they always wanted more.

Night is not something to endure until dawn. It is an element, like wind or fire. Darkness is its own kingdom; it moves to its own laws, and many living things dwell in it.

Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.

Love and anger are like land and sea: They meet at many different places.

That's the beginning of magic. Let your imagination run and follow it.

Not all things are blest but the seeds of all things are blest.

I can hire out for editing, proofreading, formatting, and cover design, and those are fixed, sunk costs. Once those are paid, I can earn 70% on a self-pubbed ebook.

I hate when things are sugar-coated. I'd rather have the ugliest truth than the best lie.

Only a government that does not trust its citizens would refuse them the right to bear arms.

You mean the world to me and I'll never stop loving you 'Cause what you have given me I can never repay And if we meet again somehow, I will love you then as now 'Cause you mean the world to me

[On men:] On their best days, the best of them are eight years old.

History and the generations to come will judge our leaders by the decisions they make in the coming weeks.

Without faith there is no truth, for that is all the truth is or ever was.

No one can wear a mask for very long.

Men endure the losses that befall them by mere casualty with more patience than the damages they sustain by injustice.