I don’t want ever to be guilty of what my critics claim: doing formula without original elements.

Good intentions were not enough; they had to be rationally implemented.

A good notion for a novel is far too precious to waste; it must be caught the moment it flashes into mental view, or it will escape to the brain of some other writer who really doesn’t deserve it.

When you have something you would die to protect it ceases to be a matter of courage.” Niobe explained, “You just know what you have to do and you can’t afford fear.

Evil can never touch the person who refuses to accept it.

Wenda’s chest and hips shrank, her shoulders and arms turned muscular and her body became lean and hard where it had been rounded and soft. The hair of her head shortened drastically, and a mustache sprouted on her upper lip. Her delicate human feet had become hard hooves. She was now not a nymph but a faun. Physically; she would never be male in spirit.

A mortal person’s mind is like a wilderness, with a tremendous volume of decaying constructs and half-understood experience forming natural harbors for wild animal effects.

All true art stems from the depths of the unconscious mind.

William Henley put it: It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.

Now you must excuse your Raja for he must suffer to give audience to the prince of Punt, a pompous old fool, who believes that his frequent flatulencies are the echoes of the Gods applauding his non sequiturs.