The World Was A World Of Dreaming

A Baby Was A Fact. It Was A Being With A Mind And A Nature, And You Could Feel About It Any Way You Liked, But A Baby Wouldn't Care. Just By Existing, It Demanded That You Believe In A Future: The Future It Would Crawl In, Walk In, Live In. A Baby Was A Piece Of Time; It Was A Promise You Made That The World Made Back To You.

If You Are Writing Any Book About The End Of The World, What You Are Really Writing About Is What's Worth Saving About It.

We Live, We Die. Somewhere Along The Way, If We're Lucky, We May Find Someone To Help Lighten The Load.

And I Grew Up On A Steady Diet Of Science Fiction, Especially Apocalyptic And Postapocalyptic Fiction.

I'm A Workmanlike Writer. I Show Up Every Day And Treat It Like A Job. The Old Rule That Writing Is Like Any Other Job, The First Rule Is That You Must Show Up. I'm At The Keyboard From 9 To 4 Every Day.