We write dust epitaphs for our vanquished enemies and watch them blow away in the desert wind.

At some point, you realize you can't provide a perfectly monolithic description of a foreign culture's future any more than you can provide a monolithic description of your own hometown's future. Your choices about what to emphasize and what to leave out make all the difference, and ultimately, your fingerprints and biases and viewpoints are going to be all over the story.

The surfeit of bad trends pushes me to set my stories in worlds which are often diminished versions of our own present.

The future looks a bit bleak to me.

The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you’d ever left behind riding on your shoulders.

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.

Blood is not destiny.