Maybe in some distant place, everything is already, quietly, lost. Or at least there exists a silent place where everything can disappear. Or at least there exists a silent place where everything can disappear, melting together in a single overlapping figure. And as we live our lives we discover—drawing toward us the thin threads attached to each—what has been lost.

People are always the start for me... animals, when I can get into their heads, gods, supernatural beings, immortals, the dead... these are all people to me.

I refuse to grow younger. I came by my decrepitude the hard way and I propose to enjoy it.

Nature does not make mistakes. Right and wrong are human categories.

Written By Frank Herbert

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