What’s happening? he asked.The Marquis spared him a glance, and then returned his gaze to the action in front of them. You, he said, are out of your depth, in deep shit, and, I would imagine, a few ho...
Whatever's happening, she said, eventually, it can all be sorted out. She saw the expression on my face then, worried. Scared even. And she said, After pancakes.
Whatever happened to me in my life, happened to me as a writer of plays. I'd fall in love, or fall in lust. And at the height of my passion, I would think, 'So is how it feels,' and I would tie it up...
What we read as adults should be read, I think, with no warnings or alerts beyond, perhaps: enter at your own risk. We need to find out what fiction is, what it means, to us, an experience that is goi...
What do I do now?I don’t know. Fade away, perhaps. Or find another role.
We need individual stories. Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, ‘casualties may rise to a million’. With individual stories, the statistics become people...
We make choices. No one else can live our lives for us. And we must confront and accept the consequences of our actions.
We have an obligation to use the language. To push ourselves: to find out what words mean and how to deploy them, to communicate clearly, to say what we mean. We must not attempt to freeze language, o...
We are all wearing masks. That is what makes us interesting.
To be honest, I think love is complete bullshit. I don't think anyone ever loves anyone. I think the best people ever get is horny; horny and scared, so when they find someone who makes them horny, an...
This will be the age of cruel winds, the age of people who become as wolves, who prey upon each other, who are no better than wild beasts. Twilight will come to the world, and the places where the hum...
This was the void. Not blackness, not nothingness. This was what lay beneath the thinly painted scrim of reality.
This book is the book you have just read. It’s done. Now we’re in the acknowledgments. This is not really part of the book. You do not have to read it. It’s mostly just names.
Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
They all do the same things. They may think their sins are original, but for the most part they are petty and repetitive.
There’s a brotherhood of people who read and who care about books.
There's an expression, deja vu, that means that you feel like you've been somewhere before, that you've somehow already dreamed it or experienced it in your mind.
There's a but, isn't there? said Coraline. I can feel it. Like a rain cloud.
There is a proverbial saying chiefly concerned with warning against too closely calculating the numerical value of un-hatched chicks.
There are three things, and three things only, that can lift the pain of mortality and ease the ravages of life. These are wine, women and song.