There is nothing I can't do writing in Fantasy. I can have romance, I can have mystery, I can have drama, I can have good characters - I can have everything you can do in any other genre... plus a dragon.

My mom once lost track of me at the zoo and when she found me I was lecturing a man about the difference between dromedary and Bactrian camels. I was about 3 1/2.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.

My shrug was so nonchalant it would make a cat jealous

Dawn was coming. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

Isn't that the way of the world? We want the sweet things, but we need the unpleasant ones.

It wasn't even a good note. 'If you are reading this I am probably dead.' What sort of a note is that?