She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.

I always say that if you're a novelist, the challenge is not writing what you think ought to happen, but trying in some way to write what did happen in a world that doesn't necessarily exist.

The world seemed to shimmer a little at the edges.

When you love something you just don't want to stop talking about it.

You don't have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right.

A short story is the ultimate close-up magic trick -- a couple of thousand words to take you around the universe or break your heart.

Any way, death is so final, isn't it? "Is it?" asked Richard. "Sometimes," said the marquis de Carabas. And they went down.