A seed of hope caught a taste of moisture. Some wishful kernel buried deep, where he was loathe to acknowledge it lest it poison or choke him, began to sprout.

One of the many things that surprised me about Wool is how many of its fans don't consider themselves science fiction readers.

Sometimes a thing needed opening before closure was found.

It was the hubris of each generation to think this anew, to think that their time was special, that all things would come to an end with them.

Predict the inevitable", she said, "and you're bound to be right one day.

A seed of hope caught a taste of moisture. Some wishful kernel buried deep, where he was loathe to acknowledge it lest it poison or choke him, began to sprout.

It was a sad loss, this illusion of importance, a humbling blow.