Keep violence in the mind where it belongs.

It's a funny thing in my job: you remain perpetually lonely in a world where loneliness is the rarest commodity.

It is comparatively easy to become a writer; staying a writer, resisting formulaic work, generating one's own creativity -- that's a much tougher matter.

We belong to an age where apocalypse is our daily bread, coffee's black, and we know we're part of the abyss. Red Spider White Web is right on target in conveying that understanding. It splinters in the mind... the underworld of the century's imaginings.

When knowledge becomes formulated into a science, then it does take on a life of it's own, often alien to the human spirit that conceived it.

There are two kinds of writer: those that make you think, and those that make you wonder.

The misfortune of a young man who returns to his native land after years away is that he finds his native land foreign; whereas the lands he left behind remain for ever like a mirage in his mind.

All over the world there must be far-reaching changes in animal behavior and habitat; if only one could have another life in which to chart it all... Ah, well, that's not a fruitful thing to wish, is it?

Relax, enjoy yourself. Have another drink. It's patriotic to overconsume.

Once land gets in a state, once it begins to deteriorate, it is hard to reverse the process. Land falls sick just like people--that's the whole tragedy of our time.

I can't help believing that these things that come from the subconscious mind have a sort of truth to them. It may not be a scientific truth, but it's psychological truth.

An overcrowded world is the ideal place in which to be lonely.

I've no objection to morality, except that it's obsolete.

I was hardly fit for human society. Thus destiny shaped me to be a science fiction writer.

Most of my poetry lies beyond the SF field, yet here I am corralled into 'SF poetry' as part of this poetry weekend. Of course, some might say, 'you've made your own bed -- now you must lie in it!' But, while fully accepting that dictum, I'm not yet quite prepared to lie down.

The feat represents immense achievement for the neotenic ape, species Homo sapiens. But behind this lie twooldattributesoftheapetribalismandinquisitiveness.

Science fiction is no more written for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts.

The world would go on; man might die, but the earth still yielded up its abundance.

The prose poem Walk The Red Road is great stuff and deserves to be read aloud. It compares quite favorably to The Walls Of Emerald by Li Chiang Yen, a Chinese poet of the late Tang period.

Science fiction is the search for a definition of mankind and his status in the universe which will stand in our advanced but confused state of knowledge (science), and is characteristically cast in the Gothic or post Gothic mode.