One didn't stop to talk with creatures from one's nightmares.

There was some sadness in how that could happen, Tai thought: falling out of love with something that had shaped you. Or even people who had? But if you didn't change at least a little, where were the passages of a life? Didn't learning, changing, sometimes mean letting go of what had once been seen as true?

As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.

Lazy poets try to elicit a reader's response with words designed to tug at the heart.

What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?

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

most hated by the dark, for their name is light.