She had been a solitary child, and then solitary as a woman, drawn into an orbit of her own that took her away from others, even those who would be her friends.
We worship…the powers that speak to our souls, if it seems they do. We do so knowing there is more to the world, and the half-world, and perhaps worlds beyond, than we can grasp. We always knew that. We can’t even stop children from dying, how would we presume to understand the truth of things? Behind things? Does the presence of one power deny another? [p. 176]
As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.
Do you know the wish of your heart?" - The Darkest Road
One man sees a riselka: his life forks there. Two men see a riselka: one of them shall die. Three men see a riselka: one is blessed, one forks, one shall die.
It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree
A hand fought best when it made a fist.
I have always argued, in a good novel, interesting things happen to interesting people.
Lazy poets try to elicit a reader's response with words designed to tug at the heart.
... everyone knew that all islands were worlds unto themselves, that to come to an island was to come to another world.
You'd never killed anyone. Then you had.
What man would dare believe that all he planned might come to pass?
Irritation for some men was their response to strain.
Ice is for death and endings.
I will not say I am sorry, but I can tell you that I grieve.
Some writers later, describing the events of that night and day, wrote that Wan'yen of the Altai had seen a spirit-dragon of the river and become afraid. Writers do that sort of thing. They like dragons in their tales.
Writing is never, ever easy but I wake up every morning grateful for the gift of being able to do this.
When I'm all grown up, come what may, I'll build a boat to carry me away
We are all shaped by where we grow up, though that shaping takes different forms. I dont think theres any doubt that coming of age in Winnipeg both opened my eyes and made me hungry - if I can subvert all claims to be a real writer by mixing metaphors like that.
When I was 18 years old, in a more innocent time, my first backpacking trip through Europe, I sneaked into the Temple of Saturn in the Roman Forum after nightfall and spent several hours in there avoiding the guards patrolling.
It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.
Eanna love us, Adaon preserve us, Morian guard our souls.
Liu Fang is a truly gifted, world-famous player of the pipa and the guzheng, classical Chinese stringed instruments.
What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?
There was some sadness in how that could happen, falling out of love with something that had shaped you. Or even people who had.
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