Is it possible for a person to love without wanting love back? Is anything so pure? Or is love, by its nature, a reciprocity, like oceans and clouds, an evaporating of seawater and a replenishing by rain?

All writers have roots they draw from - travel, work, family. My roots are in science and it is fertile ground for fiction.

I consider myself a spiritual atheist. I certainly believe there are forces bigger than ourselves, and that we should be searching, individually, for meaning in our lives. But I don't believe there's a supreme being, an intelligence that created everything.

Except for a God who sits down after the universe begins, all other gods conflict with the assumptions of science.

Such is the cost of immortality. No person is whole. No person is free. Over time, some have determined that the only way to live is to die. In death, a man or a woman is free of the weight of the past [and the future].

I have always loved magic realism as a form of writing. I have also been fascinated for a long time with the intersection of science and religion.

Sadness is no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum.