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.

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

We are all shaped by where we grow up, though that shaping takes different forms. I dont think theres any doubt that coming of age in Winnipeg both opened my eyes and made me hungry - if I can subvert all claims to be a real writer by mixing metaphors like that.

You have to be afraid for it to count as bravery.

One man sees a riselka: his life forks there.  Two men see a riselka: one of them shall die.  Three men see a riselka: one is blessed, one forks, one shall die. One woman sees a riselka: her path comes clear to her.  Two women see a riselka: one of them shall bear a child.  Three women see a riselka: one is blessed, one is clear, one shall bear a child.

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

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