There are two kinds of writer: those that make you think, and those that make you wonder.

The prose poem Walk The Red Road is great stuff and deserves to be read aloud. It compares quite favorably to The Walls Of Emerald by Li Chiang Yen, a Chinese poet of the late Tang period.

Feedback is a pleasant thing. I get a lot of letters from unexpected people in unexpected places.

Writers must fortify themselves with pride and egotism as best they can. The process is analogous to using sandbags and loose timbers to protect a house against flood. Writers are vulnerable creatures like anyone else. For what do they have in reality? Not sandbags, not timbers. Just a flimsy reputation and a name.

A writer should say to himself, not, How can I get more money?, but How can I reach more readers (without lowering standards)?

Science fiction is no more written for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts.

Fantasy is literature for teenagers.