This is what art is all about. It is weaving fabric from the feathers you have plucked from your own breast. But no one must ever see the process - only the finished bolt of goods. They must never suspect that that crimson thread running through the pattern is blood.

The work reveals the creator - and as our universe in its vastness, its orderliness, its exquisite detail, tells us something of the One who made it, so a work of fiction, for better or worse, will reveal the writer.

Punch after punch after punch. February is a mean bully. Nothing could be worse - except August.

Crazy people who are judged to be harmless are allowed an enormous amount of freedom ordinary people are denied.

I love revision. Where else can spilled milk be turned into ice cream?

Peace is not won by those who fiercely guard their differences, but by those who with open minds and hearts seek out connections.

Read for fun, read for information, read in order to understand yourself and other people with quite different ideas. Learn about the world beyond your door. Learn to be compassionate and grow in wisdom. Books can help us in all these ways.