Life is brutal that way ... the loss of irrecoverable moments amid trivia and distraction.

She had always felt that the essence of human experience lay not primarily in the peak experiences, the wedding days and triumphs which stood out in the memory like dates circled in red on old calendars, but, rather, in the unself-conscious flow of little things - the weekend afternoon with each member of the family engaged in his or her own pursuit, their crossings and connections casual, dialogues imminently forgettable, but the sum of such hours creating a synergy which was important and eternal.

But I think, and hope, that the novels can be understood and enjoyed as science fiction, on their own terms.

Fate and victory shift ... now this way, now that way -- like a line of unarmored men under a hail of enemy arrows.

It no longer matters who consider themselves the masters of events. Events no longer obey their masters.

Words were like objects, making the idea more solid -- less a poisonous gas and more a ... cube of crystallized thought.

Belief in one's identity as a poet or writer prior to the acid test of publication is as naive and harmless as the youthful belief in one's immortality... and the inevitable disillusionment is just as painful.