I have an idea of how the book will finish up, but it very rarely finishes up the way that I think it's going to.

It's the pool where we all go down to drink, to swim, to catch a little fish from the edge of the shore; it's also the pool where some hardy souls go out in their flimsy wooden boats after the big ones. It is the pool of life, the cup of imagination, and she has an idea that different people see different versions of it, but with two things ever in common: it's always about a mile deep in the Fairy Forest, and it's always sad. Because imagination isn't the only thing this place is about.

Fantasy has a better chance of lasting than a lot of other things. The Hobbit and the Narnia books, they seem to get handed down father to son, mother to daughter. Because they're set in a fantasy world, they can remain relevant.

Kill if you will, but command me nothing!

If you don't control your temper, your temper will control you.

...they came to see what happened to their town, to see if it was indeed lying burnt and bleeding. Many of them also came to die.

If I have to spend time in purgatory before going to one place or the other, I guess I'll be all right as long as there's a lending library.