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

...that once were urgent and necessary for an orderly world and now were buried away, gathering dust and of no use to anyone.

What?" It was a good word. Like a rock in a river, sticking up to let you land on it, so you could make your way across the flow.

[Imagination] must be visited constantly, or else it begins to become restless and emit strange bellows at embarrassing moments; ignoring it only makes it grow larger and noisier.

Imagination is the golden-eyed monster that never sleeps. It must be fed; it cannot be ignored.

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.

At its best, fantasy rewards the reader with a sense of wonder about what lies within the heart of the commonplace world. The greatest tales are told over and over, in many ways, through centuries. Fantasy changes with the changing times, and yet it is still the oldest kind of tale in the world, for it began once upon a time, and we haven't heard the end of it yet.