Make This The Golden Rule,

Half A Dozen Brats Turned With Expressions Of Derision, And Lyra Threw Her Cigarette Down, Recognizing The Cue For A Fight. Everyone's Daemon Instantly Became Warlike: Each Child Was Accompanied By Fangs, Or Claws, Or Bristling Fur, And Pantalaimon, Contemptuous Of The Limited Imaginations Of These Gyptian Daemons, Became A Dragon The Size Of A Deer Hound.

We Are All Subject To The Fates. But We Must Act As If We Are Not, Or Die Of Despair.

But I Know That All The Things I Do Know Are Very Small Compared With The Things That I Don't Know.

People Are Too Complicated To Have Simple Labels.

I Don't Profess Any Religion; I Don't Think It's Possible That There Is A God.... My Books Are About Killing God.