I don't write from dreams because I don't remember mine, but I had a fragment of an image left about twins, whose father was telling them how their lives were going to go for the next eight years. I wrote a scene about that, and then another and then another and then another, and after five months I had 732 pages.

Waves are the voices of tides. Tides are life," murmured Niko. "They bring new food for shore creatures, and take ships out to sea. They are the ocean's pulse, and our own heartbeat.

Well, label me very impressed and ship me to Carthak!

It's harder to heal than it is to kill.

Have I mentioned that I hate it when you're right?", she asked instead. Alanna shook her head. "No, I don't believe you have. As far as I could tell, you never thought I was right.

A friend had commented once that Neal had a gift for making someone want to punch him just for saying hello.

He has artistry," he repeated. "Because that's what it takes to blow things up. And cook his arm.