Individual words, sounds, squiggles on paper with no meanings other than those with which our imagination can clothe them.
Prejudice is a product of ignorance that hides behind barriers of tradition.
Sometimes I don't know whether I'm thening or nowing.
There is a certain degree of steampunkishness that creeps into my books.
Apart from the faint odor of ink that pervaded the scene, it might have been real.
Death doesn't care about personalities - he's more interested in meeting quotas.