All the drawing lacksis the final touch: To addeyes to the dragon

Reading one book is like eating one potato chip.

Become careless with fire, and sure enough, fire will burn you. Do treachery, and treachery will be done you. Kill, and be punished with death. All these I’ve done. Now I pay the price, in...

Believe something and the Universe is on its way to being changed. Because you’ve changed, by believing. Once you’ve changed, other things start to follow. Isn’t that the way it works?

Blood in the water I sing, and one who shed it: deadliest hunger I sing, and one who fed it- weaving the ancient-most tale of the Sea’s sending: singing the tragedy, singing the joy unending...

Don’t be afraid to make corrections,” Picchu said. “Don’t be afraid to lend a hand.” She fell silent, seeming to think for a moment. “And don’t look down.

If you see an injustice, and don’t move to right it when you have a chance, history won’t forget that, either.

Belief made no difference to the truth.

What I try to do for my readers is to pass on some of the things that I found out about being thirteen after doing it for forty years.

Yes, limits can be self-imposed. But, as regards space, especially, they’re starting to dwindle. It can be the same way for people.

The issues of the choice between right and wrong has to be an ongoing concern for everybody, at every age. There is no magical point in a human life when anyone is or becomes immune...

Beware! said the peridxis’s voice in her head. Don’t let It’s shadowy little truth overwhelm the greater one.

What teens will realize is always a mystery to me. I’m still realizing so many things myself, very belatedly, that it seems unwise to think I have any right to be showing people things in...

Must I accept the barren Gift?-learn death, and lose my Mastery?Then let them know whose blood and breathwill take the Gift and set them free:whose is the voice and whose the mindto set at naught...

Where’s my bed?!” Dairine shrieked.”It’s on Pluto,” Nita said. “On the winter side, somewhere nice and dark and quiet, where you won’t find it if you look all day-which you’re not going to have time...

(True,) the white hole said. (My name is Khairelikoblepharehglukumeilichephreidosd’enagouni-) and at the same time he went flickering through a pattern of colors that was evidently the visual translation.

When honor dies—when trust is a useless thing—what use is life?

There is a rule for fantasy writers: The more truth you mix in with a lie, the stronger it gets.