Granny bit her lip. She was never quite certain about children, thinking of them-when she thought about them at all-as coming somewhere between animals and people. She understood babies. You put milk in one end and kept the other as clean as possible. Adults were even easier, because they did the feeding and cleaning themselves. But in between was a world of experience that she had never really inquired about. As far as she was aware, you just tried to stop them catching anything fatal and hoped that it would all turn out all right.

Aliens don't get stuck in air ducts. It's practically a well-known fact.

Humans need fantasy in order to be human.

A world like that, which exists only because the gods enjoy a joke, must be a place where magic can survive. And sex too, of course.

I’ve seen excitement, and I’ve seen boredom. And boredom was best.

All he knew was that you couldn't hope to try for the big stuff, like world peace and happiness, but you might just about be able to achieve some tiny deed that'd make the world, in a small way, a better place. Like shooting someone.

I'd like to sell a lot of books.