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

There is a proverbial saying chiefly concerned with warning against too closely calculating the numerical value of un-hatched chicks.

Amy: This time can we... lose the bunk beds? The Doctor: No Bunk beds are cool, a bed with a ladder, you can't beat that!

He had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.

You can't trust other people. If it's important, you have to do it yourself.

I suspect that most authors don't really want criticism, not even constructive criticism. They want straight-out, unabashed, unashamed, fulsome, informed, naked praise, arriving by the shipload every fifteen minutes or so.

It does not matter where you come from, if you walk toward the truth you will reach it, whatever path you take.