I don't often reread my own books, unless I am going into another in the series and need to refresh my mood when originating the concept

Above us, outlined against the brilliant sky, dragons crowded every available perching space on the Rim. And the sun made a gold of every one of them.

To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pressures and tensions. Like waking out of a long, dark dream to a sun-filled day.

Your music can be played easily and well by any half-stringed harper or fumble-fingered idiot. Not that I'm maligning your songs. It's just that they're an entirely different kettle of fish-to use a seamanly metaphor-to Domick's. Don't you judge your songs against his standard! More people have already listened to your melodies and liked them than will ever hear Domick's, much less like them.

How could she have believed such an artificial life as the theatre was suitable?

My eyes are green, my hair is silver and I freckly; the rest is subject to change without notice.

I think writers need windows on a view to remind them that a whole world is out there, not the minutiae with which they might be dealing on a close scale