As far as I'm concerned, the entire reason for becoming a writer is not having to get up in the morning.

Names come and names go.

Is there any person in the world who does not dream? Who does not contain within them worlds unimagined?

Sometimes we can choose the paths we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all.

I've been blogging since February of 2001. When I started blogging, it was a dinosaur blog. It was me and a handful of tyrannosaurs. We'd be writing blog entries like, 'The tyrannosaurus is getting grumpy.'

There was a hysteria in there, certainly, but there was also the exhaustion of someone who had managed, somehow, to believe several dozen impossible things in the last twenty-four hours, without ever getting a proper breakfast.

Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.