Love is a glimpse of hope. To love is to hope. When we abandon hope, we cease to exist.

The journey is long, the road is dark and frightening, but together we can reach our destination: the Tasmania of which we all dream, where all are welcome and all prosper, made no longer of lies but truth, built not of rich men's hate but our love for our island and for each other.

When forging money, I had always salved my conscience by concluding that I was merely extending the lie of commerce.

I think empathy's a terrible danger for a writer.

The enslavement, humiliation, torture, and ultimate destruction of thousands upon thousands of human beings for a project for which there was ultimately no purpose is a horror that's very hard to imagine, far less understand.

In the end you're not made or broken by prizes. Your relationship is with your readers, not a prize, and you just have to keep on honoring that.

Love is the scent of a sleeping back, death a slight draft of bad breath.