Creating the fictional background for a game world isn't significantly different from creating a background for fiction.

We're not lost. We're locationally challenged

We're all living on borrowed time. The trick is to come up with works of sufficient interest to pay off the debt.

There are people who believe in an absolutely transparent prose; with every respect for clarity of expression, I don't.

Observe, don't imitate.

The language fictional characters use is chosen for effect, at least if the author is concentrating.

At one point I intended to write precursor and sequel novels, about the establishment of the Web and its next evolution, but I am very unlikely to now; they would take place in a different universe.

Every book is three books, after all; the one the writer intended, the one the reader expected, and the one that casts its shadow when the first two meet by moonlight.

Well, it's an adventure story, and a Bildungsroman, of course, but there was also the intention to describe a culture that had been seen in rather narrow terms.

Sometimes the reader will decide something else than the author's intent; this is certainly true of attempts to empirically decipher reality.

There are readers who want every point to be clearly and unambiguously set forth, and there are those who want to pry ideas and meanings out for themselves.

Loneliness in a crowd of people was the worst kind of loneliness, but she couldn't help it.

It is not the tree that forsakes the flower, but the flower that forsakes the tree.

The statements of atheists ought to be perfectly clear of doubt. Now it is not perfectly clear that the soul is material.

When Eddie Gray plays on snow, he doesn't leave any footprints.

I do not murmur, even if my heart break.

I'm always challenged by someone.

And I now think that Stratocasters and Telecasters are way cool.

There are demons and there are evil people in the world, and you post a picture like that and some cultist gets a hold of it or a coven and they begin muttering curses against an unborn child.

You have to be true to yourself, but you have to be true to your best self, not to the self that secretly thinks you are better than other people.

For what is the program of the bourgeois parties? A bad poem on springtime, filled to bursting with metaphors.