People can get involved in wonderfully creative ways that have nothing to do with you, but spark off things you begin with.

Finish what you're writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.

Once, I was a poet, and, like all poets, I spent too long in the Kingdom of Dreams.

We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable.

I'd love to think that people in the future would gather in theatres, at conventions, and in darkened rooms, and read it out to each other.

The only ones who ever come here from your lands are the minstrels, and the lovers, and the mad. And you don't look like much of a minstrel, and you're— pardon me for saying so lad, but it's true— ordinary as cheese crumbs. So it's love if you ask me.

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.