One day all of us will die but - and this is the important thing - we are not dead yet.

I don't read an awful lot of fiction and when I do, it tends to be lightweight stuff.

Matter exploded into being, apparently as chaos, but in fact as a chord. The ultimate power chord.

The kind of accidents you prefer to call...accidents.

...the proliferation of luminous fungi or iridescent crystals in deep caves where the torchlessly improvident hero needs to see is one of the most obvious intrusions of narrative causality into the physical universe.

Rings try to find their way back to their owner. Someone ought to write a book about it.

That, lad," he said proudly, "was some of the worst poetry I have heard for a long time. It was offensive to the ear and a torrrture to the soul....We'll make a gonnagle out of ye yet!