Now When I Die, I Shall Only

He Stood There For A Moment Looking Around The Silent Room, Shaking His Head Slowly. All These Books, He Thought, The Residue Of A Planet’s Intellect, The Scrapings Of Futile Minds, The Leftovers, The Potpourri Of Artifacts That Had No Power To Save Men From Perishing.

I Think What Dreams May Come Is The Most Important (read Effective) Book I've Written. It Has Caused A Number Of Readers To Lose Their Fear Of Death The Finest Tribute Any Writer Could Receive. ... Somewhere In Time Is My Favorite Novel.

He Pretended It Was The Only Thing That Kept Him From It. But, Far Back In His Mind, He Wondered If He Could Write Anything. Often The Question Threw Itself At Him When He Was Least Expecting It. You Have Four Hours Every Morning, The Statement Would Rise Like A Menacing Wraith. You Have Time To Write Many Thousands Of Words. Why Don't You? And The Answer Was Always Lost In A Tangle Of Becauses And Wells And Endless Reasons That He Clung To Like A Drowning Man At Straws.

…those Who’ve Marred Their Appearance In Any Way By Their Actions In Life Aren’t Forced To Witness That Marring. If They Were, They’d Become Self-conscious And Be Unable To Concentrate On Improving Themselves.

Quiet Is Here And All In Me. ("dress Of White Silk")