He sat by her, watching every gesture she made, as if he would paint her portrait afterward.

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

It gets cold in the desert at night, particularly up in the mountains; the stars hammer on the rock and strike frost.

I love writers all across the board, but one who influenced me very directly at the beginning was Mary Renault.

Writing is writing, and stories are stories. Perhaps the only true genres are fiction and nonfiction. And even there, who can be sure?

I'm not very good at being alive. Sometimes I despair of ever mastering it, getting it right. When I'm old, perhaps.

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