I will draw you back to me. You shall see. By a chain of stars..

Dawn rose from the desert and turned the river to wine..

A rose by any other name Would get the blame For being what it is-- The colour of a kiss, The shadow of a flame. A rose may earn another name, So cal….

It's lovely. I hate it..

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

I held out my book. It was precious to me, as were all the things I'd written; even where I despised their inadequacy there was not one I would disow….

Oh, love. Love is best of all. There is no such total element, not even pain. Who has ever loved, knows this. I need not say more..

I must suppose that reading wonderful writers may, inadvertently, teach an avid reader a great deal -- not only about life and other matters, but abo….

If I ever get to 100, I'd want to be filled with wonder and wild, adolescent, wide-eyed interest in newness. So let's keep the flame burning. Let's s….

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

Madness. I did not get myself born to die. I have better things to do..

I never know where I am going, though. That is part of what makes it so wonderful. And after all, who does?.

Men are not the causers of history. History itself, by a pressure of events, causes men to resort to particular actions..

Never be afraid of a cliché, if it expresses what you wish to say..

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 ….

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

We all have our dreams. May we find them, and God have mercy on us when we do..

How massively the mountains stand, while low to the ground the sand blows. The sand blows on and on. And then there are no mountains, none at all, th….

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

Ecstasy and vulnerability belonged in the same dish. The fear the cup would be snatched away was what gave the wine its savor..

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