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In my solitude I have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death.

I'm fascinated by the fact that we can't grasp anything about time.

The reason why time plays a great part in so many of my tales is that this element looms up in my mind as the most profoundly dramatic and grimly terrible thing in the universe.

Everything has a place and time.

I think the mystery of what's out there in the universe is just very compelling.

Relativity challenges your basic intuitions that you've built up from everyday experience. It says your experience of time is not what you think it is, that time is malleable. Your experience of space is not what you think it is; it can stretch and shrink.

I feel like I don't understand time in novels, really. I bumble forward, is all.

Time and space - time to be alone, space to move about - these may well become the great scarcities of tomorrow.

We have such little mystery in our lives generally because of how we live now. I mean, of course, mystery is all around us, but the way we live our lives now, we're too busy to be bothered with it.

Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before, how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.