Turn my head, and you may go where you want. I turn it again, you will stay till you rot. I have no face, but I live or die by my crooked teeth—who am I?
I started trying to think what the best advicei'd been given over the years was.and it came fromstephen kingtwenty years ago, at the height of the success ofsandman.i was writing a comic that people l...
You must have a bladder like Lake Erie. I think empires rose and fell in the time it took you to pee. I could hear it the whole time.Thank you. Do you want something?
You don't have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right.
YOU KNOW HOW IT IS. YOU PICK UP A BOOK, flip to the dedication, and find that, once again, the author has dedicated a book to someone else and not to you. Not this time. Because we haven’t yet met/hav...
Would you think, Richard asked, that I was being picky if I pointed out that trying to find something with an angel on it in here is going to be like trying to find a needle in an oh my God it’s Jessi...
Why do we need the things in books? The poems, the essays, the stories? Authors disagree. Authors are human and fallible and foolish. Stories are lies after all, tales of people who never existed and...
When something looks enough like something else that people watching don't know what it is they're looking at.
When I was young I was a fool. So wrap me up in dreams and death.
Truly, life is wasted on the living, Nobody Owens. For one of us is too foolish to live, and it is not I.
The marquis stared at Richard, openly amused. What a refreshing mind you have, young man, he said. There really is nothing quite like total ignorance, is there?
The Marquis had known whom he had wanted not to be, when he was a boy. He had definitely not wanted to be like Peregrine. He had not wanted to be like anyone at all. He had, instead, wanted to be eleg...
That is the nature of time. It flows faster when it was younger and the course is narrower: at the end of all things time has spread and slowed, lik oil spilled on a still pond.
Spiders' webs only have to be large enough to catch flies.
Something told him that something was coming to an end. Not the world, exactly. Just the summer. There would be other summers, but there would never be one like this. Ever again.
Someone stumbled into him, cursed and walked away. Richard was lying prone on the platform, in the rush-hour glare. The side of his face was sticky and cold. He pulled his head up off the ground. He h...
Somehow, this was one oddity too many. He could accept Mind the Gap and the Earl's Court, and even the strange library. But damn it, like all Londoners, he knew his Tube map, and this was going too fa...
Some of us claim that he was a messiah, and some think that he was just a man with very special powers. But that misses the point. Whatever he was, he changed the world.
She could hear, some way off, her brothers calling to each other in the woods behind the house. She hoped desperately that their game wouldn't bring them any closer, that they wouldn't scare the birds...
Personally—and this is speaking as a subscriber to Scientific American, here—I feel very sorry for the professionals whenever they find another confusing skull, something that belonged to the wrong so...