Seeing all the chattering faces, Paul was suddenly repelled by them. They were cheap masks locked on festering thoughts—voices gabbling to drown out the loud silence in every breast.

To be in the middle of composing a book is almost always to feel oneself in a state of confusion, doubt and mental imprisonment....

For every victory," Necthana whispered, her great dark eyes shining with a mother's tears, "there is a price.

Well, I probably, I guess first became aware of the whole, what I call the nuclear complex or weapons work those kinds of things, right out of law school.

Written By Tom Udall

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