Tell me who you are. You need not tell me your name. Names have power, even human ones. Tell me where you live and what you do with your living.

He didn't look insane or inhuman. He did look uncooperative.

One keeps searching for ease, she did not say, and not finding it, till the memories of no-pain seem only like daydreams.

With the knowledge of her aloneness came a rush of self-declaration: “I will not be nothing.”

The Lone Ranger of vampires. Did that make me Tonto?

Everything was an adventure, at night, when you were where you shouldn't be, even if it was somwhere you could go perfectly well in daylight, and it was then only ordinary.

The great thing about fantasy is that you can drag dreams and longings and hopes and fears and strivings out of your subconscious and call them 'magic' or 'dragons' or 'faeries' and get to know them better. But then I write the stuff. Obviously I'm prejudiced.