People are icebergs. So much of us is underneath.

It's easier to believe in aliens than in gods.

Human beings do not like being pushed about by gods. They may seem to, on the surface, but somewhere on the inside, underneath it all, they sense it, and they resent it.

Nothing I did where the only reason for doing it was the money was ever worth it, except as bitter experience.

Here, far from our homes, we will be forgotten by our gods.

Fictions are merely frozen dreams, linked images with some semblance of structure. They are not to be trusted, no more than the people who create them.

To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.