Perhaps The Window Is Not

Old Stories Would Tell How Weavers Would Kill Each Other Over Aesthetic Disagreements, Such As Whether It Was Prettier To Destroy An Army Of A Thousand Men Or To Leave It Be, Or Whether A Particular Dandelion Should Or Should Not Be Plucked. For A Weaver, To Think Was To Think Aesthetically. To Act - To Weave - Was To Bring About More Pleasing Patterns. They Did Not Eat Physical Food: They Seemed To Subsist On The Appreciation Of Beauty.

My Google-fu Is Strong.

I'm A Very Friendly Socialist.

In Every Book I Write, I Try To Name-check The Most Prominent Influences, Or The Most Prominent Conscious Influences.

I Feel Fantastically Geeky. [but] I'm Not One Of Those People Who's Enormously Proud Of Being A Geek, But Nor Am I Particularly Ashamed Of It.