Maidens who stay maidens turn into saints. Old women become sorceresses. Tough jobs, both of these.

The soul is a magician. Only living flesh hampers it.

I was reading some complex books in my own youth-and no, I didnt always understand every word, let alone every concept-but I got the main thrust, which was like a lifeline in a fluctuating world.

When I started as a writer, I knew nothing about publishing-nothing about anything!

If they had said my writing wasn't good enough, fair enough, that's an opinion. But to say it's too complex is to insult the intelligence of the so-called young.

There was no violence, no speed. It moved to the rhythm of an elder dance, putting all the rituals of the world to shame. Black, silver, gold and moon-opal, night and sea, fire, earth, air and water.

I never know where I am going, though. That is part of what makes it so wonderful. And after all, who does?