I have an advanced degree in procrastination and another one in paranoia.

A man may plant a tree for a number of reasons. Perhaps he likes trees. Perhaps he wants shelter. Or perhaps he knows that someday he may need the firewood.

And so Nat stood up and joined the group, and followed, and watched, and awaited his chance as the light of Chaos lit the plain and gods and demons marched to war.

Of course I didn't pioneer the use of food in fiction: it has been a standard literary device since Chaucer and Rabelais, who used food wonderfully as a metaphor for sensuality.

Places have their own characters. . . . But the people begin to look the same.

I'm not sure I believe in the whole 'ghost-afterlife' thing, but I think places are marked by people who have been there.

Some things can be both real and imaginary at the same time, . . . some lies can be true, . . . broken faith may be restored.