Some things, it was better not to think about. It just made you mad and angry.

Short fiction seems more targeted - hand grenades of ideas, if you will. When they work, they hit, they explode, and you never forget them. Long fiction feels more like atmosphere: it's a lot smokier and less defined.

We are nature. Our every tinkering is nature, our every biological striving. We are what we are, and the world is ours. We are its gods. Your only difficulty is your unwillingness to unleash your potential fully upon it.

Life is exponential. Two becomes four, becomes ten thousand, becomes a plague.

They say in the military that a good battle plan can last as long as five minutes in real fighting. After that, it comes down to if the general is favored by fate and the spirits.

Sex and hypocrisy. They go together like coffee and cream.

She smiles at him, too young to know him for a stranger, and too innocent yet to care.