The only questions that really matter are the ones you ask yourself.

A story rises from the springs of creation, from the pure will to be; it tells itself; I takes its own course, finds its own way, its own words; and the writer's job is to be its medium.

Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.

The model of modern Western civilization is the virus: the pure bit of information, which turns its environment into endless reproductions of itself.

And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet would I remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content.

Alone, no one wins freedom.

Even a poet cannot get everything right.