Music’s a wood you walk through.

She was widely read enough to appreciate my literary wit but not so widely read that she knew my sources. I like that in a woman.

The her that lived in her looked out through her eyes, through my eyes, and at the me that lives in me.

The uncreated and the dead exist solely in our actual and virtual pasts.

Human beings need to watch out for reasonless niceness too. It's never reasonless and its reason's not usually nice.

For me, novels coalesce into being, rather than arrive fully formed.

The learnin' mind is the livin' mind, Meronym said, an any sort o'Smart is truesome Smart, old Smart or new high Smart or low.