Freedom is a small price to pay for survival.

If it means my death, I don't care, because even death will be a sort of freedom.

When you draw, you copy the world don't you? You remake it on paper, but it isn't the same. It's yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems, I use the words we all use, but the order and the sound create a new power. This wood is someone's creation. We stumble through it's tendrils, as if we're crawling through the synapses of his mind.

Shadow turned. Her eyes were wet; she smiled at him wanley. "I'll be she loved you.

In the Sapient tongue he said softly, ‘Tell me, Master, did you know Incarceron was tiny?’ ‘Is it?’ Sapphique replied in the same language, his green eyes as he looked up lit by deep points of flame. ‘To you, perhaps. Not to its Prisoners. Every prison is a universe for its inmates. And think, Jared Sapiens. Might not the Realm also be tiny, swinging from the watchchain of some being in a world even vaster?

Only the man who has known freedom Can define his prison.

I always was going to be a writer. The other jobs were just to keep me in food. Though I enjoyed the archaeology.