I've always loved stories of animals and birds that can appear to be human, just by taking off their skins or their feathers.

Not all animal brides are doomed. Not all men are greedy or violent or possessive.

I think happy, companionate marriages between men and women who respect each other (as far as is consistent with being actual human beings) should be every bit as poetry-worthy as angst, bitterness, and shame.

I love the idea of species fluidity, I guess, the sense of the maiden inherent in the swan or seal, the youth inherent in the bear or deer. After all, human beings are animals.

I've always loved stories of animals and birds that can appear to be human, just by taking off their skins or their feathers.

Aren't we most aware of our animal natures when love or hunger or hatred burns through reason and encourages us to do exactly what we desire to do, with frequently tragic results?

What was the good of dreaming of adventure if you turned your back on the first one that came your way?