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?

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

It is the last thing we learn, / listening to the creature world.

We all have such stories. It is a brutal arithmetic. But I - I am alive. You are alive. As long as we breathe, we can see and hear. As long as we can remember, all those gone before are alive inside us.

If you love a waist, you waste a love.

If you want to write, you write. Talent is simply not enough.

A book is a wonderful present. Though it may grow worn, it will never grow old.