He smiles but rarely and watches other men to see when they laugh and then does the same.

A piece of writing is like a piece of magic. You create something out of nothing.

There must come a time when the bullets will run out

And how shall I think of you?' He considered a moment and then laughed. 'Think of me with my nose in a book!

I was told once by some country people that a magician should never tell his dreams because the telling will make them come true. But I say that is great nonsense.

You've got to sing like you don't need the money. You've got to love like you'll never get hurt. You've got to dance like there's nobody watching. You've got to come from the heart, if you want it to work.

But when the fairy sang the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy’s song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself.