To improve as a player you need to not only know how you plan to win, but ... how might your opponent disrupt your plan.

How could anyone survive even a single day, if he didn't feel as if he was, in some little great way, needed?

For honest insight into who you are, don't ask yourself what your priorities are for next week. Ask what your priorities were last week.

A community is a small group working together. Community scales by adding groups, and building connections between them, not enlarging them.

The burden of intelligence: you can always imagine all those wonderful places where you can never belong.

A brilliant mind was never as clever as three average minds sniffing after something of interest.

A community that learns together excels together. We need to form communities that learn together.

I live for those rare and delicious moments when the words on the page take off and I am the bystander, watching as the tale shows me what will happen next.

Science fiction is really a rather tiny business compared with its giant cousin, which is fantasy.

I've always thought of science fiction as being, at some level, a 19th-century business.

Occasionally, I'll dream I'm in the factory. That will help me write. Not creatively, but more like a prod. I don't want to go back there.

Having a strong intent and purposes makes life worthwhile.

I don't have problems with my weight, I don't change weight but I think when you're gaining in age your position has to be beautiful.

I don't know that cell phones are dangerous. But I don't know that they are safe.

I've been told that I'm incompetent, socially retarded, maladjusted. I still know that I couldn't function in reality. Los Angeles is a good place for me.

Each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally beautiful. (p 41)

I’m Pri-ya again. I always will be with this man.

I'm very happy to hear that my work inspires writers and painters. It's the most beautiful compliment, the greatest reward. Art should always be an exchange.

On my last day of shooting, I'd be happy to say 'Cut, it's a wrap' and fall off the twig.

The painter puts brush to canvas, and the poet puts pen to paper. The poet has the easier task, for his pen does not alter his rhyme.

There is such sweet pain in parting that I could hang forever on thine arms, and look away my life into thine eyes.