Quotes from Jane Lindskold

Sometimes I write less than I'd like but do research. Other times, editor's notes or a copy-edited manuscript or page proofs for a forthcoming novel mean that I need to put my attentions elsewhere for a day or two, but I always come back to writing.

Readers are always surprised to learn that authors have little or no input regarding the cover art for their books.

Well done, Sister," Blind Seer said. "I look forward to meeting this One above Ones. Now, you must make ready. I, of course, am already perfect.

Is she become a rag doll? Are the wolves become children? It seems quite possible, there on the twilight fringes of dying. With some faint spark of herself, the little girl holds on to the idea. Even a rag doll has more life than does a dying child.

There is no shame in strategic retreat if it lets you remain strong enough to go after the enemy later.

For his part, Blind Seer had no difficulty accepting idleness. A wolf proverb stated: "Hunt when hungry, sleep when not, for hunger always returns.

After a day of watching the two-legs interact from within their midst, she was certain that they could talk as well as any wolf. Unlike wolves, however, they mostly used their mouths, a thing she found limiting. How could you tell someone to keep away from your food when your own mouth was full?

Firekeeper still could not understand the human penchant for eating in company. Even less so, she could not understand the human desire to combine business and meals. True, a wolf pack shared a kill, but not from any great desire to do so—rather because any who departed the scene would be unlikely to get a share... She struggled...not to bolt her food and almost always remembered that growling when a person spoke to you was not a proper response.

Wolves regularly attacked their rivals in power, so the idea of killing to gain position was neither alien nor repulsive to her. The use of assassins she had filed as yet another of the curious tools - like swords and bows — that humans created to make up for their lack of personal armament. What she still had to puzzle through was the subtle strategies involved in killing those who were expected to inherit power rather than those who held the power itself.

Are you prepared then, to shoot a human being?" he asked, trying not to let Jenny sense his own internal unease. "It's not the same as shooting a duck or gazelle." Jenny's violet eyes met his straight on. "If that human being was about to harm any one of us, I'd feel worse about shooting the duck. It, at least, would have done nothing to deserve a bullet.

Indeed, he is glorious in his madness.

What if the only non-humans the two-legs know," she mused, "are the Cousin-kind? How stupid they would believe all others who walk the earth to be!

For all they have the means of faster travel, faster communication, faster just about everything, they seem to have less time.

There were nights when, lying awake on the fringes of Derian's latest encampment and invigorated by the coolness that came with the dark, she fought back the urge to get up and go just a bit farther. When the wolf-woman slept, she dreamed of her impatience.

His features, like those of his cousin Norvin Norwood, were aquiline rather than handsome, but unlike Norvin, whose grey eyes seemed to hold something of a raptor's fierceness, Jared's similar visage was mild.

MORNING FALLS ON THE JUST AND THE UNJUST," I OBSERVE, and the nurse smiles politely and continues brushing my hair.

words used wrong are like poison.

This was a music engendered in the dark reaches of the heart and soul. It took its rhythms from the slow beating of the pulse and the dragging of reluctant breath. It had never set the pace for sailors at sea or for farmers bringing in the harvest. It was city music, introspective and forlorn.

When Firekeeper finally slept, she dreamed she rode astride the comet—or was it Blind Seer whose tail streamed out so broad and bright behind?—and that they traveled to places where time and earthly limitations mattered not at all.

'Legends Walking' was the first of my books to go to a second printing based on strong initial orders, but much of that printing never found its audience.

Writing - not being a writer with interesting habits - gets priority.

I've never met any artist who illustrated one of my books, although I've corresponded briefly with one. I have always been impressed by the technical expertise involved in the covers, even if sometimes puzzled by the subject matter.

My feeling is that writing Fantasy should be harder - not easier - than writing any other kind of fiction.

I've had over a dozen and a half novels published since late 1994 when my first novel, 'Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls' came out.