We are all expressions of our own minds, projected onto the world.
Across the sea of space lies an infinite emptiness. I can feel it, suffocating me. It is without meaning. But each life creates its own reality.
You don't want to stand too close to a robot arm; it can turn your head to mush.
Memories fade but words hang around forever.
It is not enough to live together in peace, with one race on its knees.
I wrote a query letter to an editor - a friend of a friend. The editor called me an idiot, told me never to contact an editor directly, and then recommended three literary agents he had worked with before. Laurie Fox was one of them, and I've never looked back.