The idea that an author can extricate her or his own ongoing life experience from the tale being written is a conceit of very little worth.

Betrayal was the greatest of all crimes, for it took all that was human within a person and made it a thing of pain. In the face of that, murder itself was surcease: it was quick, and it ended the anguish and despair of a life without hope.

You must dismantle your sources, lest you do nothing but ape the prejudices of others

The lesson of history is that no one learns.

The only death I fear is dying ignorant.

I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.

He was a man who would never ask for sympathy. He was a man who sought only to do what was right. Such people appear in the world, every world, now and then, like a single refrain of some blessed song, a fragment caught on the spur of an otherwise raging cacophony. Imagine a world without such souls. Yes, it should have been harder to do.