When people are serving, life is no longer meaningless.

Find a pile of gold and sit on it.

I cannot believe such monstrous energy of grief can lead to nothing!

The primary subject of fiction is and has always been human emotion, values, and beliefs.

Our noblest hopes grow teeth and pursue us like tigers.

The true artist plays mad with his soul, labors at the very lip of the volcano, but remembers and clings to his purpose, which is as strong as the dream. He is not someone possessed, like Cassandra, but a passionate, easily tempted explorer who fully intends to get home again, like Odysseus.

They watch on, evil, incredibly stupid, enjoying my destruction. 'Poor Grendel's had an accident,' I whisper. 'So may you all.