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

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.

Of course, an exhausting day at sail lines and nets left little energy to expend on running or laughing. Perhaps that was why her parents couldn't appreciate her music - it wouldn't appear to be hard work to them. Menolly shook her hands, letting them flap from her wrists. They ached and trembled from the constricted movements and tension of an hour of intensive playing. No, her parents would never understand that playing musical instruments could be as hard work as sailing or fishing.

Fear has its uses but cowardice has none.

I'm very fond of the Talent series, and also the Crystal Singer trio.

Because we build the worlds we wouldn't mind living in. They contain scary things, problems, but also a sense of rightness that makes them alive and makes us want to live there.

Drummer, beat, and piper, blowHarper, strike, and soldier, goFree the flame and sear the grassesTil the dawning Red Star passes