My first generation of young readers now have not only children, but some of them have grandchildren to whom they're introducing their old passion.

The Spear in the Other’s heart is the spear in your own: you are he.

But the trouble with sainthood these days is the robe-and-halo imagery that gets stuck onto it." Carl got that brooding look again. "People forget that robes were street clothes once... and still are, in a lot of places. And halos are to that fierce air of innocence what speech balloons in comics are to the sound of the voice itself. Shorthand. But most people just see an old symbol and don't bother looking behind it for the meaning. Sainthood starts to look old-fashioned, unattainable... even repellent. Actually, you can see it all around, once you learn to spot it.

Something always happens. You still have to promise stuff anyway. If you have to work to make the promises true... it's like a spell. You have to say the words every time you want the results.

I may have one more 'Star Trek' novel in me, but it would be in the old universe, not the new one.

All the drawing lacks is the final touch: To add eyes to the dragon

A warp," Nita whispered. "A tunnel through space-time. Are you a white hole?" It stopped bobbing, stared at her as if she had said something derogatory. (Do I look like a hole?)