The really important thing to be was yourself, just as hard as you could.

And because nobody's done it before, they haven't made up rules to stop anyone doing that again, yet.

I never fell. I don't care what they say. I'm still doing my job, as I see it.

Short stories are tiny windows into other worlds and other minds and dreams. They are journeys you can make to the far side of the universe and still be back in time for dinner.

Charitably... I think... sometimes, perhaps, one must change or die. And, in the end, there were, perhaps, limits to how much he could let himself change.

I think hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go.

That's the trouble with living things. Don't last very long. Kittens one day, old cats the next. And then just memories. And the memories fade and blend and smudge together.