Love is not fashionable anymore; the poets have killed it.

And I needed a rock. Something to hold onto$$$ to stand on. Something solid. Because everything was going soft$$$ turning into mush$$$ into marsh$$$ into fog. Fog closing in on all sides. I didn't know where I was at all.

I don't like novels that end happily. They depress me so much.

Even in merely reading a fairytale$$$ we must let go our daylight convictions and trust ourselves to be guided by dark figures$$$ in silence; and when we come back$$$ it may be very hard to describe where we have been.

This was the way he had to go; he had no choice. He had never had any choice. He was only a dreamer.

The fish in the creek said nothing. Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice$$$ or anything else.

I am no more lonely than the loon on the pond that laughs so loud.

You fear them because you fear death$$$ and rightly: for death is terrible and must be feared$$$ the mage said... "And life is also a terrible thing$$$" Ged said$$$ "and must be feared and praised."

Manhood is patience. Mastery is nine times patience.

Progress means nothing to presence.