Every lover is, in his heart, a madman, and, in his head, a minstrel.

The thin girl was gulping down one of Richard's bananas in what was, Richard reflected, the least erotic display of banana-eating he had ever seen.

But there was a kitten on my pillow, and it was purring in my face and vibrating gently with every purr, and, very soon, I slept.

And if there's a moral there, I don't know what it is, save maybe that we should take our goodbyes whenever we can.

I wondered if that was true: if they were all really children wrapped up in adult bodies, like children's books hidden in the middle of dull, long adult books, the kind with no pictures or conversations.

You play your cards so close to your chest," said Shadow, "that I'm not even sure they're really cards at all.

We have an obligation to make things beautiful. Not to leave the world uglier than we found it, not to empty the oceans, not to leave our problems for the next generation.