Neil Gaiman Quotes

He tugged on an imaginary rope,somewhere on the level of his ear, and then jerked his neck to one side, tongue protruding, eyes bulging. As quick pantomimes went, it was disturbing. And then he let go...

How Do You Feel This Morning When You Know What You Did Last Night?

How old are you? said the girl. What are you doing here? Do you live here? What's your name? I don't know, said Bod. You don't know your name? said the girl. Course you do. Everybody knows their own n...

I am anti-life, the Beast of Judgment. I am the dark at the end of everything. The end of universes, gods, worlds…of everything. And what will you be then, Dreamlord?I am hope.

I am as my creator made me.

I am not scared of bad people, of wicked evildoers, of monsters and creatures of the night. The people who scare me are the ones who are certain of their own rightness.

I am still not talking to you, said Liza Hempstock’s voice, proud as a peacock and pert as a sparrow. Actually, you are. I mean, we’re talking right now. Only during this emergency. After that, not a...

I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and M...

I can tell you this, you never say no to the opportunity to piss, to eat, or to get an half-hour's shut eye...

I couldn't get you to the ocean, but there was nothing stopping me bringing the ocean to you.

I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled.

I don't just randomly kill people... I kill people when it's funny.

I don’t think there is such a thing as a bad book for children. Every now and again it becomes fashionable among some adults to point at a subset of children’s books, a genre, perhaps, or an author, a...

I feel dirty. I feel tarnished. I feel befouled. Perhaps it is true that all that happens is in accordance with Your will, and thus it is good. But sometimes You leave blood on Your instruments.

I feel like I am involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell me the rules, and who smiles all the time...

I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend...I can pretend that things last.

I think I would rather be a man than a god. We don’t need anyone to believe in us. We just keep going anyhow. It’s what we do.

I think I've got Fear down, but how do I take it all the way up to Terror?

I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My Valentine's jest somehow seems less funny.

I wonder, Are fictions safe places? And then I ask myself, Should they be safe places?