Sometimes living takes more courage than dying.

You write to be read. That is the bottom line.

Time may heal all wounds, but it does not erase the scars.

A child who can love the oddities of a fantasy book cannot possibly be xenophobic as an adult. What is a different color, a different culture, a different tongue for a child who has already mastered Elvish, respected Puddleglums, or fallen under the spell of dark-skinned Ged?

What makes a good book? Scholars and critics have been debating that question for decades. I like books that touch my head and my heart at the same time.

Take a step, breathe in the world, give it out again in story, poem, song, art.

And for adults, the world of fantasy books returns to us the great words of power which, in order to be tamed, we have excised from our adult vocabularies. These words are the pornography of innocence, words which adults no longer use with other adults, and so we laugh at them and consign them to the nursery, fear masking as cynicism. These are the words that were forged in the earth, air, fire, and water of human existence, and the words are: Love. Hate. Good. Evil. Courage. Honor. Truth.