In art, 'good enough' is not good enough.

Sometimes you must go against the wheel's turn.

All makers must leave room for the acts of the spirit. But they have to work hard and carefully, and wait patiently, to deserve them.

The creative adult is the child who has survived.

Stories are what death thinks he puts an end to. He can't understand that they end in him, but they don't end with him.

It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.

Her concern with landscapes and living creatures was passionate. This concern, feebly called, "the love of nature" seemed to Shevek to be something much broader than love. There are souls, he thought, whose umbilicus has never been cut. They never got weaned from the universe. They do not understand death as an enemy; they look forward to rotting and turning into humus. It was strange to see Takver take a leaf into her hand, or even a rock. She became an extension of it, it of her.