It was a shameful thing that she had nothing of which to be ashamed.

Imagination is like a muscle. I found out that the more I wrote, the bigger it got.

Nature is an experimenter.

Human beings are part of nature. Anything they do is natural. It's impossible for anything in nature to do anything unnatural.

This story is about love, which means that it is also about hate.

Confucius once said that a bear could not fart at the North Pole without causing a big wind in Chicago.

It's a peculiarity of the Norwegian culture and of the English and American, too, that men are not supposed to cry. Stiff upper lip and all that. But the Vikings cried like women in public or privately. They soaked their beards with tears and were not one bit ashamed about it. Yet, they were as quick to draw their swords as they were to shed tears. So, what's all this crap about men having to hold in their sorrow and grief and disappointment?