What Do Men Know? Because They Have

Then What Is Magic For?" Prince Lír Demanded Wildly. "what Use Is Wizardry If It Cannot Save A Unicorn?" He Gripped The Magician's Shoulder Hard, To Keep From Falling. Schmedrick Did Not Turn His Head. With A Touch Of Sad Mockery In His Voice, He Said, "that's What Heroes Are For.

There Are Honest People In The World, But Only Because The Devil Considers Their Asking Prices Ridiculous.

Writing Has Nothing To Do With Publishing. Nothing. People Get Totally Confused About That. You Write Because You Have To - You Write Because You Can't Not Write. The Rest Is Show-business. I Can't State That Too Strongly. Just Write - Worry About The Rest Of It Later, If You Worry At All. What Matters Is What Happens To You While You're Writing The Story, The Poem, The Play. The Rest Is Show-business.

And What Good Is It To Me That You're Here Now? Where Where You Twenty Years Ago, Ten Years Ago? How Dare You, How Dare You Come To Me Now, When I Am This?

You Have To Be Very Deep To Be Dead, He Thought, And I'm Not. He Began To Have Some Concept Of Forever, And His Mind Shivered As His Body Had When He Had Wakened In The Cold Nights And Thrust His Hands Between His Thighs To Keep Warm. It Will Be A Long Night, He Thought.