I am not some kind of computer. Only machines have glib answers for everything.

Our truest response to the irrationality of the world is to paint or sing or write, for only in such response do we find truth.

At Tara in this fateful hour, I place all Heaven with its power, And the sun with its brightness, And the snow with its whiteness, And the fire with all the strength it hath, And the lightning with its rapid wrath, And the winds with their swiftness along their path, And the sea with its deepness, And the rocks with their steepness, And the earth with its starkness: All these I place, By God's almighty help and grace Between myself and the powers of darkness!

Artists of all disciplines must be willing to go into the dark, let go control, be surprised.

Friends--or lovers--are not always available to each other. Inner turmoils can cause us to be unhearing when someone needs us, to need to receive understanding when we should be giving understanding.

With each book I write, I become more and more convinced that the books have a life of their own, quite apart from me.

You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.