The important thing of any time you live in is to be in love yourself. You float above your time then. It's what you want that counts, not what your time wants.

A day without writing was a little death.

Writing is supposed to be difficult, agonizing, a dreadful exercise, a terrible occupation.

The sun burnt every day. It burnt Time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people anyway, without any help from him. So if he burnt things with the firemen, and the sun burnt Time, that meant everything burnt!

Science-fiction balances you on the cliff. Fantasy shoves you off.

You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. When I said something about the moon, you looked at the moon, last night. The others would never do that. The others would walk off and leave me talking. Or threaten me. No one has time any more for anyone else. You're one of the few who put up with me. That's why I think it's so strange you're a fireman, it just doesn't seem right for you, somehow.

I have my favorite cat, who is my paperweight, on my desk while I am writing.