There was the gaudy patch of sunflowers beside the west gate of the palace of the Prince of Ombria, that did nothing all day long but turn their golden-haired, thousand-eyed faces to follow the sun.

I do not want to choose which one of you I must love or hate. Here, I am free to do neither. I want no part of your bitterness.

When you put your hands and mind and heart into the knowing of a thing ... there is no room in you for fear.

Peace, tremulous, unexpected, sent a taproot out of nowhere into Morgan's heart.

Wisdom never learned silence, and it is most annoying when least wanted.

I write fantasy because it's there. I have no other excuse for sitting down for several hours a day indulging my imagination. Daydreaming. Thinking up imaginary people, impossible places.

Imagination is best fed by reality, an odd diet for something nonexistent there are few details of daily life and its broad range of emotional context that can't be transformed into food for the imagination.