I've got an idea for a modern day faerie tale that I think would made a great short novel. But I just don't have the time to work on it right now. I'm way too busy with the 'Kingkiller Chronicles' and being a new dad.

If you're an actor, you know people are going to recognize you in a restaurant. If you're a rock star, you know people are going to stop you on the street and ask you for your autograph. But as an author? That's not something I was ready for.

Roses! I swear you men have all your romance from the same worn book. Flowers are a good thing, a sweet thing to give a lady. But it is always roses, always red, and always perfect hothouse blooms when they can come by them.

It is quite a thing. There are so many men, all endlessly trying to sweep me off my feet. And there is one of you, trying just the opposite. Making sure my feet are firm beneath me lest I fall.

A poet is a musician who can't sing.

When the hearthfire turns to blue, what to do? what to do? run outside, run and hide when his eyes are black as crow? where to go? where to go? near and far. Here they are. see a man without a face? move like ghosts from place to place. whats their plan? whats their plan? Chandrian. Chandrian

Now it's virtually impossible to write a game that successfully provides challenge and frustration, and that's a shame. We are going to lose something that makes scientists, that makes doers, that makes hard-minded, witty, clever people, and I worry that those people aren't being made these days.