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.

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?

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

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.

In this world, where we find ourselves, we need compassion more than anything, I think, or we are all alone.

Why did becoming accustomed to something have to render its pleasures stale.

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