The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down.

We salvage what we can, what truly matters to us, even at the gates of despair.

There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.

Men made wagers with their judgment, their allegiances, their resources.

Writing is never, ever easy but I wake up every morning grateful for the gift of being able to do this.

It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.

After a while, you start to realize that you should write a book you would want to read. I try to write a book I would enjoy.