“I had learned already never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.”

“Art for Art’s Sake is for the well fed. The well fed are all the babies in cradles and my kitty along with them, and I am happy if my writings are for my kitty.”

“Well, the rain had stopped but the pain was still there.”

“I was crushing on my mentor. Crushing on my older mentor. I had to be out of my mind. He was seven years older than me. Old enough to be my…well, okay, nothing. But still older than me. Seven years was a lot. He's been learning to write when I was born. When I'd been learning to write and throw books at my teachers, he's probably been kissing girls. Probably lots of girls, considering how he looked.”

“Faithful: When will you learn to leave well enough alone?Alanna sighed. "When I want to stop learning, I guess.”

“What is the essence of the art of writing? Part One: Have something to say. Part Two: Say it well.”