I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too.

THE MAGIC AND THE DANGER OF FICTION IS THIS: it allows us to see through other eyes. It takes us to places we have never been, allows us to care about, worry about, laugh with, and cry for people who do not, outside of the story, exist. There are people who think that things that happen in fiction do not really happen. These people are wrong.

Short stories are tiny windows into other worlds and other minds and other dreams

I have always felt that violence was the last refuge of the incompetent, and empty threats the last sanctuary of the terminally inept.

Tristan and Yvaine were happy together. Not forever-after, for Time, the thief, eventually takes all things into his dusty storehouse, but they were happy, as these things go, for a long while

What should I believe? thought Shadow, and the voice came back to him from somewhere deep beneath the world, in a bass rumble: Believe everything.

I was always so relieved that anyone wants to publish anything I've written.