There was still the wreckage of that man in there somewhere. That was what made him so terrible, and so sad.
There was something sly about his smile,his eyes so black and sharp, his rufous hair. Somethingthat sent her early to their trysting place,beneath the oak, beside the thornbush,something that made her...
There was something about being in the vicinity of Grahame Coats that always made Fat Charlie (a) speak in cliches and (b) begin to daydream about huge black helicopters first opening fire upon, then...
There was no moon but the night sky was a riot of crisp and glittering autumn stars. There were streetlights too and lights on buildings and on bridges which looked like earthbound stars and they glim...
There are stories that are true, in which each individual’s tale is unique and tragic, and the worst of the tragedy is that we have heard it before, and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply...
The world seemed to shimmer a little at the edges.
The rules on what is possible and impossible in the arts were made by people who had not tested the bounds of the possible by going beyond them.
The only advice I can give you is what you're telling yourself. Only, maybe you're too scared to listen.
The next morning he boarded the train for the six-hour journey south that would bring him to the strange gothic spires and arches of St. Pancras Station. His mother gave him a small walnut cake that s...
The man Jack was, above all things, a professional, or so he told himself,
The cold was bothering me. You'd think I'd welcome it. But it's something to do with being dead, I guess. You don't feel it as cold. You feel it as a sort of nothing, and when you're dead I guess the...
The cat wrinkled its nose and managed to look unimpressed. Calling cats, it confided, tends to be a rather overrated activity. Might as well call a whirlwind.
The boy had the towering arrogance only seen in the greatest of artists and all nine-year-old boys.
The boundaries of our country, sir? Why sir, onto the north we are bounded by the Aurora Borealis, on the east we are bounded by the rising sun, on the south we are bounded by the procession of the Eq...
The Norse myths are the myths of a chilly place, with long, long winter nights and endless summer days, myths of a people who did not entirely trust or even like their gods, although they respected an...
That’s an Anansi story. ’Course, all stories are Anansi stories. Even this one.
Stories are in one way or another mirrors. We use them to explain to ourselves how the world works or how it doesn’t work. Like mirrors stories prepare us for the day to come. They distract us from th...
Sometimes we can choose the paths we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all.
Sometimes I wonder if she transforms people into animals, or whether she finds the beast inside us, and frees it.
Some things are too big to be seen; some emotions are too huge to be felt.